The Texas Ranger's Secret (16 page)

“She’s about four and a half inches long. The males are usually two and a half to three.” Gage took the rope from Willow and started recoiling it. “Probably making her way over to bring breakfast back to her babies.”

Curiosity urged Willow to ask, “How could she teach me anything?”

“Though she wouldn’t have bitten you, if she felt threatened at all, she might have squirted a stream of blood from the corner of her eye, deliberately aiming it at you. I’ve seen one hit a coyote four or five feet away.”

His nose wrinkled. “The blood is foul smelling and must sting something fierce, as loud as that coyote howled. I’d say it’s a pretty effective defense to scare someone or something off. I’ve never seen one miss when it’s fighting for its life. A little sure shot, you might say. Aim and mean where you throw it. That’s what she could teach you.”

Gage motioned toward his horse as he took the rope from her. “That’s enough roping for now. What do you say we head on in and see what we can get into back at the barn? Maybe show you how to replace a shoe if your horse ever throws one when you’re afield. That’s knowledge that’ll serve you well anytime.”

“I could use something to eat soon,” she admitted. “Didn’t have time to have breakfast before I came.” Willow saw an opportunity to learn more about Gage than he’d revealed. Falling in step beside him, she remembered the spider at the livery, the lizard and now his mention of the horseshoe. “You seem to have a good knowledge of God’s beasts. Are you a horse doctor or something?”

“Never stayed anywhere long enough to do that.” When they reached his mount, he undid the hobble and offered her a hand up.

She shook her head. That wouldn’t be fair to him. “I’ll walk.”

Gage chose to do the same and took the horse’s reins, leading it toward the lake and the stream that would guide them back to the main house. His stride matched Willow’s as they ambled at a steady pace.

“Lived most of my life outdoors,” he finally continued. “It’s inevitable to learn a few things about those of us who share the wide-open spaces.”

“Surely you don’t just roam around and live life hand to mouth like the mountain men used to do, do you?” As a person who had a goal to achieve and a desire for a measure of success, Willow couldn’t imagine finding happiness living life purely by the moment and, more important, all alone. “Don’t you like company?”

He took a long time to answer. “Hard to miss it when you’ve never had much.”

That confession revealed more than if he’d gone on with endless conversation. As they followed the stream, he said no more and she wondered what he was thinking.

He seemed perfectly content with his own thoughts, where she, on the other hand, decided to continue rattling on at the mouth about how she liked being with people even when it took a little while for the appreciation to become mutual.

Her mind ran amok with a handful of questions she would have gladly asked if he’d been in a more talkative mood.

Did he prefer being such a loner? Was he the kind of man her grandfather had told her about who supposedly found joy in riding the long trail? Did he ride alone or prefer to work in a company of men? Grandfather’s tales of the first Rangers said the job required men willing to give up all to protect and serve others. Like an apostle of sorts. Was Gage that type of man?

The desire to ask him if he was or had ever been a Ranger kept building every time she was near Gage. That she couldn’t let it go bothered her, but she knew the day she would outright ask him wasn’t long in coming. She’d never been able to keep her curiosity in rein or her mouth shut for that long!

Willow stole a glance at him, thinking he sure fit the bill of what she thought a Ranger might be. Tall, rugged, strong...and not very talkative, she had to admit grudgingly. Cowboy code insisted that if you’re hurting, hide it, according to Grandfather.

What concerned her most was, even if Gage was a Ranger, why would he want to hide that fact from her? It wasn’t as if she would tell anyone else but her boss. Biven would be pleased she’d gotten such a reliable source to confirm the facts she used in her story for the paper.

She could even see the possibility of having to tell Snow about his profession if he stayed around the place for much longer. Her sister would want to know he was a lawful man they could trust.

Having a possible Ranger teach her was wise, wasn’t it? That was the real issue here.

The longer Willow mulled the question, the more Gage’s keeping his counsel bothered her. “Ollie and Thad finally settled in close to midnight,” she blurted, hoping that mentioning the children would spur his gift of gab. “They won’t be wanting any ice cream for a while.”

“Glad they’re better.”

She waited for him to say something more. He didn’t. Well, that had gone over about as well as the preacher passing the collection plate an extra time around.

Willow felt increasingly uncomfortable as her thoughts returned to all she’d been considering. Might it ultimately prove a big mistake to count on Gage in the event he was actually a member of Ketchum’s profession? Was she setting herself up for failure and hadn’t even realized it?

A man who was Ranger smart would figure out the reason behind her actions soon enough. Would he walk away thinking she’d used him? Or mocked him?

She didn’t think of Gage in that way. He was simply research. She truly admired and respected what she knew of him so far. The only real aggravation she had with him was his bent toward keeping his thoughts to himself.
Speak up, man!
she screamed silently in her impatience.

“What would you like to concentrate on next?” he suddenly asked. “Shooting, shoeing or campfire cooking?”

He’d spoken. “Campfire cooking on the next day I don’t have the children to watch,” she said. “Maybe show me how to braid a rope on a day they’re with me.”

“Whatever you say.”

He’d had her there a second, cast her a line and hooked her, then threw her back into the deepness of her thoughts. He closed himself off as quickly as he had offered an opening. It showed he had little practice in being good company.

She’d considered him friendly enough up until now. He didn’t try to boss her around anywhere near as much as Snow had. And even when he’d made her temper flare, they’d both gotten over it pretty quickly. No one got along perfectly, did they? Especially if one of them wasn’t the sort to want to talk things out. It pestered Willow to no end that he was perfectly fine with holding his tongue.

As her character did sometimes. Sat there in her mind’s eye looking as though a gag had been stuffed in his mouth, refusing to give her a clue as to how she could discover his story or anything about him.

Was that what Gage was doing? Gagging himself so he wouldn’t reveal any more of his past?

Stubborn pride wouldn’t let her leave it alone and just enjoy the walk home. She aimed to find out more about him, but she didn’t want to anger Gage. He might eventually discover how she’d messed up her fictional Ranger’s worth. In fact, she expected him to live up to a Ranger’s creed and would be disappointed in him if he proved anything less.

But would he put her chance to make things right with Biven in jeopardy? Should she tread a little more cautiously where
his
pride might be concerned?

They’d known each other less than three full days but she had already come to a point of looking forward to spending time with Gage. Learning what he had to teach. Discovering that she liked to impress him. Somehow it had come to matter what he thought of her attempts. And what he would think of how she would present his choice of lifestyle to the readers.

A sense of regret filled Willow, saddening her. What if once he found out why she was trying so hard to prove herself, he decided never to see her again?

“Will you be available tomorrow?” She hoped that she wouldn’t have to skip any days, whether or not she had to care for the children. “I’ll be in town.”

“If you need me.”

“Where do you want to meet?” she asked. “Choose somewhere we can just sit and braid rope...and chew the fat.”

“In front of the barbershop next to the bathhouse, there’s a couple of whittling benches that don’t usually get crowded until after the morning stage rolls in,” he informed her. “How does ten o’clock sound? We can sit and watch people come and go.”

“Sounds fine to me. I’ll look forward to it. And don’t worry, I’ll pick up what I need at the mercantile before I meet you. You don’t have to bring a thing.”

Sometime during the past three days, Gage Newcomb had become her friend. Someone she would want as part of the tribe she so longed to be involved with.

If she had to give up his companionship, it wouldn’t be a loss she’d take lightly.

No longer paying attention to her path, Willow nearly stumbled on uneven ground, her right kid boot bending at the ankle, only to correct itself with a wrenching pop. She clutched her journal to her breast so she wouldn’t lose it and gritted her teeth against the instant pain.

He abruptly dropped the horse’s reins and grabbed her, pulling her closer to offer support. She ended up with her arm wrapped around his waist and her nose buried in his duster. He might have washed the trail coat, but the smell of smoke still lingered in its threads. Maybe she could give it a good scrubbing for him for catching her and not letting her fall on her face just now.

“You hurt?”

She shook her head and leaned back, testing her sore ankle by putting weight on her foot again. Nothing broken, not even sprained. It was just going to ache like nobody’s business for the rest of the day.

As clumsy as she was, she would have never made it past toddler stage if she hadn’t had strong bones. Willow tried to laugh off her embarrassment. “Just my usual lack of gracefulness. Thanks, Gage. Guess one never knows when you’re going to need a little help. Having company pays off sometimes.”

* * *

Gage didn’t let her step away, instead taking her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. She was trying to act as if she needed no help, but he had to make certain she could walk easily on her own before they went much farther.

He quickly retrieved the reins and waited on Willow. Inhaling the lingering scent of sunshine and wildflowers that permeated the air about her, he realized he would never recall this particular fragrance again without thinking of it as the one that belonged to a morning spent in her company. Yes, sometimes company had its value.

“What will you do with the rest of today?” he asked, watching her limp with each new step. “I think we ought to save the horseshoeing for later down the road.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she insisted, unthreading her fingers from his and trying to increase her pace, “and I don’t want to waste my free time.”

“Don’t be startled,” he warned, taking quick strides to lift Willow and cradle her in his arms. “You’re going to ride the rest of the way.”

She squirmed for only a second as he settled her into the saddle and insisted she take the reins.

“There, that better?”

Willow glared at him a moment, then finally nodded. “Okay, I admit it. It hurts and I’m hardheaded. You win. Now, where am I going to put this?”

She twisted around to reach his saddlebags but couldn’t.

Gage took the journal and slipped it inside his buttoned-up shirt against his belly. “There, easily solved. Where are your pencils?”

She shrugged. “I lost them somewhere between shrieking at the lizard and falling over my own two feet. I can never keep track of everything, it seems.”

He rattled off a poem.

There was an old Texan, roamed his country far and wide

Found the light of his freedom in the quiet, starlit sky

No slave to a whistle, no prisoner to a street

He was partner to the wind and the horse between his knees

Needed little to earn a living but hardened muscle, savage grit

Wanted ownership of nothing but a blessing to never quit

“That was beautiful,” she complimented. “Nice way to put my priorities in their proper place. So what if I lost a pencil? Who wrote it?”

Gage stared into the distance, remembering the day he’d buried his father. He was glad the images would at least fade from his sight someday, whether or not they ever did in his mind. “A boy who once lost everything that ever mattered to him.”

“You wrote that, didn’t you?” Sympathy softened her voice.

“I suppose many of us try our hand at writing a time or two in our lives.” He’d never shared the poem with anyone before and was surprised he offered the words so easily now.

He had purposefully corralled his bent for poetry and writing stories behind the youth he’d been forced to let go of long before he became a man. Now that he was losing sight, what use would it do to loosen that rein again?

The poem had just come to mind when she spoke of losing something as simple as a pencil.

“I’m guessing you’ve written more than a time or two if you wrote something like that. You have talent, Gage. Real talent. You ought to pursue that. There’s got to be somebody who’s interested in buying it for publication. It made me feel something here.” She pressed her palm over her chest. “Only real writers can do that.”

Gage wished he hadn’t opened up this vein her thoughts were taking. She could be persistent when she chose to set her mind to something. “If I write at all, it’s only for myself.”

“Well, I can’t imagine being good enough to sell my writing but not wanting to do anything with it,” she blurted. “That’s a waste of God-given talent.”

She sounded angry with him. He’d suspected she nurtured an interest in writing when she’d preferred to jot things down instead of actually doing them earlier when he’d shown her how to rope. “Is that the real reason you’re trying to learn these new skills? Plan on writing about them?”

Her eyes widened as if she’d let a cougar out of its cage. The fact that she wanted to be paid for her writing meant nothing to him. To each his own. But the look she gave him affected him immensely, reminding Gage of the beautiful palomino color of her eyes. He would remember this day for several reasons, but her eyes would occupy his thoughts for nights to come and long after the time his own saw no more.