Ranger's Wild Woman (4 page)

To Ranger’s relief, Hannah popped right up and off Archer’s lap. “I’ll get you something, Cissy.” Poking her arm through the window, she pulled back quickly. “Wow! That feels like a thousand needles hitting my arm!”

“Let me do it. I’ve got sleeves.” Archer leaned up and snagged a bag from out of the cooler, shoving the lid back on quickly. “Pretty smooth, huh?” he said to Hannah.

“Yeah. Like you made good grades in Grabbing Stuff from the Truckbed 101.” She peeked into the bag before glancing up at Ranger. “Twizzlers?”

“That’s my kind of snack,” he said. “Twizzlers and beef jerky. Nothing better.”

“And tequila to wash it down,” Archer said, happily examining the contents of a brown bag he pulled from underneath Cissy’s seat. “Safe as a baby in a bank vault.”

“Whatever,” Ranger said sourly. “Grab the plastic cups from underneath my seat and pour, Archer.”

The scent of tequila filled the truck. Archer handed Ranger a plastic cup full of sweet clear liquid. “Driver first, since we’re parked for a while. Good limo-ing, dude.”

Ranger raised his cup. “Here’s to new beginnings. For all of us.”

Archer swiftly poured for the rest of them. They raised their cups and clacked them against each others. The men swallowed their tequila in a gulp, while Cissy and Hannah sipped at theirs more gingerly.

“Now,” Ranger said with a satisfied sigh. “I’m a new man. And I’m ready to beat you at strip poker, Miss Hotchkiss.”

Surprise made Hannah hesitate for only a split second, then she pulled out her cards with a sly smile. “I fancy your shirt, Mr. Jefferson.”

“I fancy yours, as well.” And he fancied her jeans and her bra and her panties off her little body—but that was a fantasy for later. One day when they were alone, and he’d tamed her, and she liked it, and being naked for him was her only desire in life, then he’d win her panties right off her heart-shaped bottom and drink her like this tequila. He poured himself more tequila for bravery.

He was going to make Archer wear a blindfold. And then when Ranger won her shirt, he was going to be the happiest man on earth. The fantasy would start tonight, and it would drift like a fairy tale, page by page, day by day, article of clothing by article of clothing. Oh, yeah.

The tequila was warming him, making him un-wrinkle. He stared at his cards, then at Hannah, who was watching him with a crook in her tricky blond brows. She didn’t look as though her hand of cards was all that swift. Ah! Sweet victory was his! “Pour me another, Archer,” he said with growing confidence. “Tonight is going to be my night!”

Ranger awakened slowly. He felt odd. His eyes didn’t want to open and his skin seemed strangely cold.

Very cold. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself awake and took stock of his body.

He was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers.

He was in a jigsaw shape, stretched out in the two front seats, his body wrapped around the armrests and the console. It was the most uncomfortable position he’d ever been in. His body complained, telling him enough was enough.

Uncreaking himself to a sitting position, he looked into the back seat. Archer was in the middle, Hannah and Cissy curled up on either side of him, heads on his shoulders. Archer had an arm around each woman, and they looked warm and toasty as mice in a barn in winter. Completely snug.

They were all fully dressed.

Ranger’s mood, sour yesterday, fermented to acidic. He didn’t remember getting blammo’ed, but clearly he’d been that and lost at strip poker. Even
nearly nude, he hadn’t had a woman crawling up next to him. Which wasn’t how his life usually went, and the problem was obviously Archer. It wasn’t enough that his twin had to stow away on Ranger’s mission of finding himself. Archer had to hog the women, too. The women Ranger had kissed.

And they’d deserted him for the comfort of the back seat.

Hannah could at least have pretended that Archer wasn’t the best pillow since goosedown. She’d said she fancied Ranger’s shirt. Well, she was sitting on it, a winner’s taunt. His jeans were under Archer’s boots, and his socks were just plain gone. “Why bother to stop at my shorts?” he groused. “Pity? Don’t like black?”

Turning, Ranger faced the windshield. Sand still flogged the truck, telling him he was in for a good whisking if he stepped outside. But nature was calling, and he probably had enough tequila inside him to blunt the pain. There was no point in getting dressed, he decided. The sand would just lodge in his clothes. Better to get dressed once he was safe inside the truck again. He could dust off his body after he made the world’s quickest pit stop.

Carefully opening the door just far enough for him to slide out, he hopped onto the ground, his bare feet landing onto something possessed of a million sharp needles.

“Yow-ee! Ai-eeee!” Jumping to get away from whatever the hell he’d stepped on, he tumbled down
ward, hitting rocks and weeds and unidentified things as gravity cruelly grabbed control of his world to dump him at the bottom of an abyss.

He was flat-assed. “I’m dying. I’m dead!” he gasped dramatically to the sky. “Deader than dinosaurs. Damn it, I’ve landed in hell!”

It was dark, it was cold, and it was very, very painful. His mouth and nose were full of sand; his skin was being burned by flying grains of fire. He had to find cover. And there was no way he could get back up to his truck—he’d rolled ass-over-ass forever. Pulling himself to a sitting position, shielding his eyes, Ranger realized he was in front of a stone enclosure. Dragging himself to the stone wall, he dismissed thoughts of bears and snakes. That type of danger was secondary to his bodily anguish. The enclosure turned into a cave, and he gladly fell inside, gasping from pain and fear and overwhelming loss of control.

Ranger knew, as he felt consciousness seep away from him and his breath cut short in his body, somehow, he was dying because of Hannah Hotchkiss.

“I’
M DOWN FOUR MEN
,” Mason complained to Mimi as he perched uncomfortably in her kitchen. Sheriff Cannady was upstairs napping, Mimi had said, and Brian was running errands. “Frisco Joe, Laredo, Archer and Ranger.”

“I’m sure Brian would be willing to help, when he returns,” Mimi said.

“Can’t do that to a man who’s still honeymooning.” The second he said it, he felt his face flush.
Honeymoon
and
Mimi
were two words he really didn’t want connected in his consciousness.

He’d known Brian was gone—he’d seen the sports car leave. Brian was a nice man—under other circumstances Mason might have hired the lawyer himself—but the miserly courage he’d worked up was close to failing him.

It was all he could do to make himself bring over this belated wedding gift. Facing Mimi was pain and pleasure. He was so glad to see her—and he was so ripped inside. She was more beautiful than ever. “Marriage agrees with you,” he said gruffly.

She glanced at him, startled, hesitating as she pulled the tissue from the silver-and-white bag that encased his gift.

A long silence stretched between them as her eyes searched his. Why had he said that? His brothers said she’d always wanted to marry him. Not Brian. Not any man but him. But he hadn’t even been able to comprehend marriage, much less to Mimi. And yet, not to anyone else but Mimi. His comrade-in-clowning. His best friend. His sister.

Marriage? Had she really wanted to marry him? Was she in love with him? He had to know.

And yet, the time to ask had passed. He saw that as her gaze dropped from his. She pulled the silvery tissue from the bag and smiled at his gift. It was a framed picture of her and all twelve Jefferson broth
ers, taken last summer when everything had still been normal. The men were dressed in jeans, hats and no shirts. Mimi wore jeans, a hat and a blue-and-white-checked blouse tied at her waist. There were six brothers on each side of her, but she was standing next to Mason, his arm around her waist as they all grinned proudly.

“I love it,” she said softly. “Thank you so much.”

“There’s a gift certificate in there to the place where you registered your bridal stuff. I didn’t know what you wanted most.”

His fingers worked the brim of his hat; he couldn’t meet her gaze. He was in hell.

He’d bought the ticket there himself.

“Speaking of honeymoons, I have a huge favor to ask of you.” Mimi sat across from him at the table, her expression worried.

“Shoot.” He could deny her nothing. Now, anyway.

“I know you’re down on hands, but…Brian and I didn’t take a real honeymoon. We got married and decided to plan the other details later.”

He hadn’t realized they hadn’t honeymooned. He’d been too buried in a frozen mask of pain to pay attention. “I knew you got married fast.”

“Yes. Very fast.” She took a deep breath. “I really want this to work out, Mason.”

His heart burned, but of course, she had no idea of his newfound realization of love for her. She knew
she’d been his best friend. She would expect to be able to share what was on her mind now.

He’d buck up and offer the shoulder she seemed to need. “I know you want it to work, Mimi. You’d not have married Brian if you hadn’t expected it to be forever.”

She nodded. “I think the best thing we can do for our marriage is to spend time alone together. Brian hasn’t asked me for it, because—” Glancing up at the ceiling, almost as if she could see through to the second floor, she said, “Well, he’s just been so patient with me. But it’s not fair to him.”

Mason was lost, but he nodded to show he was listening.

“I’ve decided we need that honeymoon. So I’ve planned a trip to Hawaii for us.” A shy smile lit her lips. “I’ve even bought a couple of bikinis.”

Fire shot through his entire body. Hell colored his heart. “You’ll be the prettiest honeymooning gal in Hawaii, Mimi,” he forced himself to say.

She reached to put her hand over his. “It’s a lot to ask of you right now, Mason, but could you keep an eye on Dad?”

He started to chuckle and say that it ought to be the other way around. Sheriff Cannady should be keeping the eye on him—but the seriousness in her blue eyes shut his mouth instantly.

“We’ll only be gone a week, and if you could check in on him from time to time—”

“It’s done, Mimi. It’s no trouble, and it’s done.”

“We leave tomorrow night. Brian will be home tonight, and I’m going to surprise him with it. I mean, he knows we’re going on a trip, but—”

Mason shook his head, realizing he was about to hear more personal details than necessary. Clearly, Mimi was feeling very anxious about her new marriage and eager to please her new husband. “You don’t have to tell me a thing. Whatever you need is yours.” He put his hat on his head, leaning down to kiss her cheek. The scent of roses touched his nose, and he thought about the days when the two of them were childhood friends.

Now they were adults. “You have a wonderful time,” he told Mimi. “You and that new husband of yours deserve every happiness.”

She smiled gratefully, but not with the elation a new bride should be wrapped in. Maybe the honeymoon would ease her mind. He would pray for that.

Mason left the kitchen, letting the screen door close quietly behind him.

I
NDIAN TOTEMS FLOATED
around him, colorful and yet faded. Primitive drawings illustrated the beauty of emotion and life inside his mind. No, the totems and drawings were outside his mind. Ranger came to in a sweaty fog, realizing someone sat beside him, cross-legged. “Hey, I know you,” he said to the apparition. “I saw you in
The Last of the Mohicans.
You’re the Native American that got stabbed and tossed over the
cliff. Your wife was none too happy about that, by the way.”

The dark-skinned man raised a brow. “You have a fever,” he said quietly. “You’ve been hallucinating.”

“You’re real.”

“Yes, but these are the first coherent words you’ve spoken. At least, reasonably coherent.”

Ranger frowned. “Then you weren’t in the movie.”

The man shook his head. “No.”

“My name’s Ranger Jefferson.”

“I know. And I know all your brothers’ names, and their every fault. I also know that you are in love, and this scares you terribly.”

“Nope.” Ranger closed his eyes. “Now you’re hallucinating. I am not, nor ever will I be, in love. It’s dangerous in our family. We’re cursed. It all started when our mother died. Or maybe it started before then. I haven’t been able to figure that one out.”

“Hmm. Drink this.” The man offered a tin cup to Ranger.

“If that’s a love potion, I’m not thirsty,” Ranger said stubbornly. “You have to understand, I’m already in bad shape. I need to keep my wits about me.”

“By all means,” the man said dryly. He put the cup beside him. “My name is Hawk.”

Ranger checked the man’s bare feet, colorful pon
cho and leggings. “I would have thought it was something fancier, but never mind. Can you get me out of here, Hawk? My buddies are around here somewhere.”

“They’re in your truck, sound asleep.”

“Still? It’s been hours! They should be looking for me by now.” A sudden thought occurred to Ranger. “Hey! How did you see my truck? It’s too far away for you to see from here.”

Hawk laughed. “There’s an easier way to get up and down the arroyo than the route you took, friend. Anyway, they’re fine. I’m sure they’ll come looking for you soon. What happened to your clothes?”

Belatedly, Ranger realized he was covered with a rough but warm blanket. That and his black boxers were all that kept him warm—and clothed. “It’s not worth talking about,” he said, embarrassed.

“First, I figured she kicked you out. Otherwise you wouldn’t have babbled about her so much in your sleep. Then I realized it was your pride that had sent you down here. You should rest,” Hawk said, waving a hand over Ranger’s eyes. “You should reflect upon the bad feelings inside you.”

“Now look,” Ranger said impatiently, aware that sleepiness was claiming him and not sure what Hawk had just done to him with that hand trick but knowing Hannah would be all over it like a curious kitten, “I have no bad feelings inside me. I stepped on something sharp and lost my balance.”

“A poison plant,” Hawk clarified. “I picked the needles from your feet. The poison can kill you.”

“And so could yapping with strangers.” He fought the darkness.

“You have more to fear from yourself than me.” Hawk gazed back at him patiently. “Have you heard that saying about having to hit rock bottom before you can start back up? Metaphysically, you have hit rock bottom by rolling down into the arroyo. Best you don’t return to your truck and your woman until you examine your life.”

“My life’s fine.” Ranger closed his eyes.

“You’re running.”

The voice sounded far away. Ranger relaxed, actually glad that Hawk was keeping him company.

“Your father left. You’re leaving. But people sometimes leave to get well. You have left to stay unwell. One day, you must choose to heal yourself.”

“Listen, when I want a shrink, I’ll call one. Now let me sleep. And tell my brother to get his ass down here and get me.”

But something was wrong. He couldn’t move his arms or legs. He couldn’t think straight. And it was true what Hawk said, most of it anyway.

Not the part about being in love, of course.

H
ANNAH GASPED
when she saw the shape Ranger was in. “He’s like, red!” she exclaimed.

Hawk nodded at her. “Yes. An after-effect of the antidote I gave him. He would have died.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, wringing his hand gratefully.

“He’s still got a long way to go,” Hawk warned her and Cissy and Archer, who looked suitably concerned about his twin.

“Should we get him to a hospital?” Archer asked.

“If you like. Unfortunately, they are not familiar with how to treat these types of illnesses. And the nearest hospital is two hours away.” Hawk looked at the waning sun outside the cave. “My advice would be to let nature take its course.”

Hannah dropped to her knees beside Ranger. “We stopped here because of the sandstorm. It was impossible to see anything. Which is how he stepped on the plant.”

“It would have helped to have had boots on,” Hawk pointed out, not a trace of sarcasm on his face. “Clothes. Of course, he suffered lacerations rolling down so far. I fear infection.”

“He lost at strip poker,” Hannah admitted. “Even Cissy can beat him, and she’s not that good at cards. He gets huffy when things don’t go his way.”

Hawk smiled. “He needs time to let the fever pass by.”

“You know what you’re doing?” Archer asked.

“I have treated this before.”

“You some kind of doctor or something?”

Hawk gave a bland nod.