Wanted (55 page)

“This might take us quite a while to settle, Sheriff …”

“Sayers,” the sheriff answered, his face even paler than moments before.

“I want to see all your arrest records, all the witnesses to … this shooting. Privately. Very privately. Which means without you or any of your men. And then I want to see all recent property sales.”

“You can't do this.”

Ira smiled, and Morgan winked at Nick. It was one of the coldest smiles imaginable. “I have eight Rangers outside that say I can.”

“Mr. Wardlaw …”

“I'm not talking to Mr. Wardlaw,” Ira said softly. “But I will. I understand his cattle herd is growing a little faster than most. But a good sheriff like yourself wouldn't know anything about that, would you?” Ira turned away from the sheriff. “Now, Miss Lori, if you can give me the names of the people you saw here that afternoon, I'll have someone fetch them. No one else will leave town until we're finished.”

Throughout the late afternoon Lori increasingly understood Morgan's commitment to the Rangers. She had begun to, in fact, since arriving the day before. There was a camaraderie, a commitment to each other apparent in the captain's immediate support of Morgan. And she'd seldom seen a more impressive sight than the six Rangers outside, their bodies alert as Morgan's always had been, their rifles resting easily, deceptively so, in their hands. Two others guarded the roads in and out of town, preventing anyone from leaving.

How could she ask him to leave them? And how could she bear what Mary Jo had borne? Waiting, always waiting, to see whether her man survived the latest battle with Indians, rustlers, renegades.

They were uncommonly effective, these men. She watched as they interviewed witnesses, first Ira, then Morgan, his likeness to Nick obviously unsettling to many of them. By dawn four men had changed their stories and had charged Wardlaw with threatening them with death if they didn't say Wardlaw's son had been unarmed. A swamper in the saloon had been beaten as an example.

All four were locked in the jail for their own protection. Ira planned to arrest Wardlaw in the morning and take him into another jurisdiction for trial. Not only would he be charged with tampering with witnesses and assault but with attempted murder by authorizing the five-thousand-dollar reward money. Once Wardlaw was in custody, the witnesses should be safe.

The town was quiet when they finished. Ira nodded at Morgan. “Why don't you take Miss Braden to the hotel? Take three men with you. The rest stay here. I don't want any surprises.”

“Nick?”

“He stays here,” Ira said, making them all aware of who exactly was still in charge. Nick was technically still charged with murder by the sheriff.

Morgan and Nick exchanged quick glances, Nick's resigned, but there was renewed life in his eyes. They were sparking with hope.

Lori went over to the Ranger captain, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek before he could respond. “Thank you,” she said simply. He flushed to his roots, turned back to another man, and barked a few orders.

Morgan chuckled and took Lori's arm. “I think that's the first time in his life he's been … surprised,” he whispered loud enough for Ira to hear.

Ira turned around. “Get the hell out of here, Davis.”

“Yes, sir.” Morgan feigned meekness, and Lori once more noted the respect between the two.

Morgan led the way, nodding to three of his fellow Rangers as he went, and Lori felt rather than saw them fall into place behind them. They had almost reached the hotel when someone yelled, “Riders coming.”

Morgan pushed Lori down, and she had the impression of speed as the other Rangers went to their knees, their rifles suddenly exploding into noise, with spurts of earth flying everywhere. Morgan shoved her behind a trough, and then his six-gun too was out, so fast she could barely follow the movement.

“Braden!” She heard the shout from a distance as the firing continued and horses' hooves pounded against the hard-packed earth of the street. One of the Rangers was lying in the street, blood pouring from his chest. The other two had found scant cover on the porch. Down the street at the sheriff's office, rifles were spitting out their own reports, and three men on horseback went down.

“Braden,” she heard again, and she recognized Lew Wardlaw's voice. Morgan raised his hand to signal a ceasefire. The street quickly became quiet.

An older man suddenly stood out in the twenty or more riders in the street. “Braden, this is between you and me. No need for more men to die. “

Morgan looked around. One Ranger was dead, another wounded. Others would die. This was his battle, the one he had chosen. He stood.

“No,” Lori whispered.

“He won't give up, Lori,” Morgan said. “I've seen others like him. He knows it's over, and he damn well is going to take others with him.”

“Ira?”

“He'll leave it to me,” Morgan said, then leaned down and kissed her softly. “Haven't you learned yet I can take care of myself, except maybe when it comes to honey-haired hellions?”

He stood suddenly and Lori started to follow, but one of the Rangers behind them held her back. “He don't need any distractions, ma'am.”

Lori heard Morgan's voice, now directed to Wardlaw. “Get the others out of the way.”

She heard Wardlaw's triumphant voice. “I don't need anyone else.”

She ceased struggling and felt the Ranger's hands leave her as he, like the others, aimed his rifle toward the milling horsemen. Lori sat up, watching, not wanting to watch, but helpless to do anything else. She saw Morgan moving toward the center of the street, his gun back in his holster, and her gaze moved to the mounted man facing him.

“You killed my son,” Wardlaw said, slowly dismounting, his eyes never leaving Morgan.

Something pulled Lori's attention away, the glint of a rifle from a window. She started to turn to the Ranger next to her, but he had moved away to where he could see the mounted men better. If she yelled, she knew she might distract Morgan.

She moved swiftly from the cover of the trough toward the nearest Ranger when she heard the exchange of gunfire from several feet away, from where Morgan had been standing. She saw the rifle in the window aim toward him. Instinctively, she stepped in front of it, between it and Morgan. Fire ripped through her and she felt herself falling. She tried to catch herself, but she was suddenly without substance, without bone.

Someone was picking her up. She tried to focus, but the fire inside her was becoming all encompassing.

“Morgan?” she whispered, but she didn't hear a reply before she slipped into nothingness.

Morgan stood, watching her sleep. He hadn't left her side in two days, and in those two days he'd lived through hell.

She'd regained consciousness several times, the first time opening her eyes and calling his name. He'd knelt beside her bed, holding her hand, trying to keep from clasping it so tightly he would crush it. She'd smiled through obvious pain, satisfied that he was all right, and then her eyes had closed again, and he'd felt so humble that he wasn't aware of the tears trekking down his face. She hadn't asked about herself, only about him.

Lori was sleeping quietly now, her breathing regular with the laudanum given by the doctor. The pain had been excruciating, he knew. The bullet had gone in at an angle below her breast, exiting her body at the side. She had bled profusely, but the bullet had missed any vital organs, according to the doctor. She was, he said, a very lucky young woman.

But as Morgan watched her struggle against the pain, he didn't think she was lucky at all. He'd wanted to keep her from harm, and yet he'd been responsible for almost causing her death. He'd never put her in harm's way again, nor could he put her through the agony he was now going through. He was learning that waiting, fearing, was even worse than being wounded oneself. He knew he could never ask Lori to spend her life waiting, fearing.

He looked over at Nick, who was sitting across from him. He wore a bump the size of a large rock. One of the Rangers had hit him in the head when he'd tried to go out into the street after Morgan had answered the challenge meant for him.

They had become closer these last two days as they had waited, feared, and suffered together. They had even talked about the future. Nick had suggested Morgan come with him to Wyoming, help establish the ranch Nick had always dreamed of. Morgan had listened but had not answered. Yet he knew he had made a decision. Nick still needed him. The posters would still be out for a while, and Lori … dammit, he would never leave Lori again.

And Ira knew, had known from the time he saw Morgan's face as he'd picked up Lori. He'd even wished Morgan well, telling him there was always a place for him if he changed his mind.

Lori's eyes flickered open, and Morgan moved closer to her. There was a slight whimper before she could catch it, and Morgan thought his heart would break with the sound. “I love you,” she said clearly.

He leaned down and gathered her against him gently, putting his face next to hers, his rough face he hadn't taken time to shave. “I love you, hellion,” he said brokenly. He hesitated, wondering if this was the time, but then, looking at her face, he knew it was.

“Would you, by any chance, consider marrying a broken-down ex-Ranger?”

Those golden eyes lit with a majesty that would brighten a kingdom, then searched his face. “Would you be … I don't want …” She stopped, then started again. “I know how much it means …”

And suddenly, the last doubt faded from his mind and heart. Lori had been willing to give not only her life for his, but also so much more. He still couldn't believe there was love like that, not for him. He wasn't fool enough to lose it.

“I hear there's a fine ranch in the making in Wyoming,” he said, his voice still cracking. “Even a partner.” He looked over at Nick, and Lori's eyes followed his gaze, saw Nick's sudden grin.

She took Morgan's hand, then Nick's, pressing them together. She didn't need to answer Morgan's question. The tears in her eyes, the smile tugging at her mouth, the glorious joy in her eyes did it for her.

EPILOGUE

Morgan sat on Damien, holding young Nick firmly in front of him as he looked down at the ranch house below. This was the same place he'd waited three years ago to this day. Waited and watched. But the scene below had changed, just as he had.

He had added to the cabin, and added again, and now it was a sprawling ranch house, two wings jutting out like welcoming arms.

His hands tightened around his son. Three years. It seemed impossible. He was a husband now, and a father twice over. The reality still astounded him.

A family man and a rancher. A very contented rancher. He hadn't believed it possible, that he could so completely put his rangering days behind him. But Lori had given him a future, one he gave thanks for every day of his life.

And he had discovered, in his own time and his own way, that he had made rangering his life simply because he knew nothing else, because it had been the only family he had ever known. He had made himself the “perfect” Ranger because it was the only identity he had.

He'd told Lori once that being a Ranger was what he was, nothing more. He knew now there was so much more to him. And he also knew he could never be a Ranger again. He could never again act without caring, without hesitating, without being sure he wasn't making a mistake. He no longer had the instincts of a hunter. The sharp edges had been blunted by contentment, by a love that grew rather than diminished with time. He relished every touch, every smile, every laugh from Lori. Even the arguments, sometimes especially the arguments, because they always ended in passion.

And he cherished his children, two-year-old Nick and eight-month-old Joy, who was a bundle of plump sweetness. He never tired of watching them, fascinated with every new step they took, elated at the smiles that lit their faces when they saw him. He wanted them to have everything he hadn't had, all the love and family and security.

Smoke came from the cabin below. Just as it had three years ago when he was a predator rather than protector. Three years. He wiped the mist from his eyes as he viewed his world now: the warm, inviting home, horses in the corral, the bull in the paddock. Hundreds of beeves were grazing in the open range he shared with Nick.

And inside, Lori. Lori with the glowing eyes and spontaneous smile and zest for life. Lori, who had given him so much love, whose lilting voice so often filled the house with music, whose fierce loyalty to those she loved never dimmed. Lori, who had filled every nook and cranny in him, in what had once been little more than a shell.

He watched as a horse approached the cabin and smiled slowly as Nick dismounted. He was a regular visitor, he and Beth and their children, Maggie and new twin sons, just as he and Lori were to Nick's home. They had grown close these years, Morgan and Nick, each finding in the other strengths that complemented his own.

With Morgan and Andy's help Nick had built a new home for himself and Beth, Maggie and the boys. Several months after sharing the same, but enlarged, cabin, they'd decided one of them needed a new home. Nick had insisted they toss a coin for the cabin, and Morgan had won. He still suspected that Nick had cheated, that his brother had known that the cabin held a special significance to Morgan and Lori.

There had been no more trouble from the posters. The Rangers had sent notices to every sheriff in four states that the reward had been rescinded, and Nick and Morgan had stayed in Wyoming these past three years, quietly building the ranch. The lawmen in the surrounding areas were all aware of the circumstances and ready to quash the expectations of any would-be bounty hunter.

Andy was Nick's top hand, turning into a first-class wrangler. Old enough, and steady enough now, to be charged with returning to Texas in a few weeks to bring up additional longhorns.