WM02 - Texas Princess (30 page)

She also knew them wel enough to know that they didn’t care what people in town were saying. But Liberty did. She’d brought this trouble on their heads and she had to think of some way to end it. It was time she stopped letting everyone else clean up her messes.

chapter 23

Y

Though noon, the gray sun offered little

warmth as Tobin and Roak moved among the shadows. Tobin had seen the camp the day before, but he wanted to take no chances rushing in too fast. His only opportunity to get close was to move in at twilight. Roak stayed right beside him, even spending two nights in the grass without a complaint.

The boy had been right. There were a dozen men waiting. They were al military lean and ful y armed. They were obviously waiting for something, but none seemed relaxed.

Their clothes were the brown of fal , making them seem almost a part of the countryside.

“If we circle, we can hear them talking,” Roak whispered, taking the lead for once.

Tobin nodded. He outweighed the kid by fty pounds. Moving between the trees wasn’t as easy for him, but he managed to keep up.

It was sunset before they were within hearing distance. The kid attened on the ground, disappearing in the dried leaves without a sound.

Tobin did the same, with less skil . As they had for two days, they waited.

Most of the men in the camp were silent. This wasn’t a group of troublemakers looking for fun. A few cleaned their weapons, one slept, but the others seemed to be watching for something.

A tal man with a thin face circled restlessly about. Once he stopped to talk to someone near the re. Tobin couldn’t make out what he said, but he thought the man listening cal ed the tal man Lieutenant Hawk. The next time he stopped his pacing, he was only ten feet from them. He rol ed a smoke and talked to a shorter man who’d come from behind a tree. Tobin didn’t even breathe as he listened.

“About time you got out here,” Hawk said. “You won’t want to have your pants down when we ride.”

The shorter man huffed. “And when is that going to be, Lieutenant? We’ve been here for four days waiting for the word to ride, and al I can see is there are more McMurrays at the ranch than when we rst arrived.”

Hawk nodded. “That last one in the wagon was a ranger. I’ve seen him in Austin a few times.”

“I don’t want to be no part of kil ing a ranger.”

Hawk’s voice rose slightly. “Not even if he’s part of the kidnapping?”

The shorter man shook his head. “Maybe he’s gone there to talk his brother out of a life of crime. It’s a sure bet he wouldn’t be traveling with his wife and kid if he thought he was heading to a ght.”

Hawk swore. “From what I’ve learned in town, they’re a family that sticks together.

Some say they’d kil for one another. If so, you can bet the brother is there to stand with his kin even if he did take a senator’s daughter.”

“I don’t know,” the shorter man mumbled. “If the princess was kidnapped, she’s probably dead already. It don’t add up. If he took her for money, looks like he would have named his price. If he took her to hurt the senator, why not kil her right off instead of dragging her out here? She couldn’t have been nothing but trouble on the trail.”

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“I’m thinking the same thing—al the pieces don’t go together—but are you going to be the one to tel the captain? I think he went insane when he found out she was gone.

I’ve seen him lose his temper before, but never like that.”

“You’l probably see it again when he gets here and nds out al we’ve been doing is waiting. Maybe Warren got word today. But unless he gets here quick, it wil be too dark to ride in tonight. None of the men like the idea of crossing that bridge in the dark.”

Tobin had heard enough. These were Samuel Buchanan’s men out of uniform and the boy had been right, they were headed toward Whispering Mountain. Somehow, he had to get home and gure out how to stop them. He didn’t like the idea of kil ing soldiers who thought they were doing their duty, but he also had no intention of al owing them to ride onto his ranch and take Liberty.

He motioned for Roak to back out.

The boy nodded once and slipped backward as silently as a garden snake.

Tobin waited a while longer, making sure none of the men noticed the boy leaving.

Then, as silently as possible, he stood and turned to fol ow.

From nowhere, something slammed against his head, knocking him to his knees before he could react.

“Help me out here!” a man shouted. “I caught me a spy.”

Tobin reached for his gun, but before he could clear the holster, someone grabbed him from behind.

He struggled and a powerful st slammed into his gut, almost knocking the breath from him. He counted three, no four men surrounding him.

The man pinning Tobin’s arms gripped tighter as another punch found his jaw.

Tobin saw stars and stopped struggling.

They dragged him into camp. Tobin was only vaguely aware of the other men joining the crowd.

“What do we do with him?” one yel ed.

“Kil him,” someone answered. “If he was sneaking up on our camp, he was up to no good.”

“Maybe we could beat information out of him. He might be one of the McMurrays.”

“I doubt it,” said the one cal ed Hawk. “Why would a McMurray leave the ranch? They don’t even know we’re here.”

The man who suggested the beating must have agreed for Hawk added, “For al we know, he’s just an outlaw thinking this would be an easy camp to rob.”

The short man, who’d been talking to Hawk earlier, barked a laugh. “If he’s not a McMurray, he’s one dumb outlaw.” He grabbed Tobin’s hair and pul ed his face up.

“I’ve only seen them from a distance. He’s big enough to be one, but I can’t tel . Why else would he be out here?”

Tobin shook his head, trying to clear his mind as the men continued to argue while the two holding him shoved his back against a tree and tied his hands around the trunk.

When he kicked at one, the man punched him again in the gut. It didn’t seem an angry hit, just a necessity to control the prisoner.

Hawk walked up to Tobin and looked straight into his eyes. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Tobin didn’t answer. If he told them the truth, Liberty might be in more danger. If Samuel found out that Liberty had gone wil ingly with him... that her father had asked Tobin to take her . . . there was no tel ing what the captain would do. From what Libby had mentioned, Buchanan was counting not only on her money when they married but also on her father’s help to advance as an ofcer and later to enter politics.

Buchanan’s dreams were shattered and he would blame Libby.

Another st landed in Tobin’s gut, but he stil didn’t speak. The blow to his face knocked his cheek against the trunk and split his lip. Tobin tasted his own blood, but he stil didn’t speak.

“Forget him,” Hawk said. “Warren is due back any minute. He said he saw McMurray hanging around the barn. If he’s a McMurray, we’l leave him tied up here and have one less to deal with when we get to the ranch.” He laughed. “If he’s not, we’l stil leave him here tied up. What happens to him then is not our problem.”

The man who’d tied him hit Tobin one more time for good measure, then walked away.

Tobin’s anger l ed his thoughts so completely he didn’t even feel the pain and hardly noticed blood dripping from both his nose and lip. He didn’t care. Al he cared about was getting back to the ranch and warning the others. These men weren’t just soldiers

—they were a special group the captain must have handpicked. These were men who were doing more than just fol owing orders.

Night settled over the camp with no sign of the man cal ed Warren arriving. Tobin tugged at the rope, but couldn’t free his hands. To his surprise, the men seemed to have forgotten about him. They moved around the camp, drinking coffee and talking quietly.

When Tobin calmed down enough to listen, he realized several were talking about the money they planned to spend. One said he’d buy a ranch down south, one said he planned to stay drunk in a whorehouse in San Antonio, and another planned to go back east and never come west again.

They were being paid, and paid wel . Tobin knew a captain in the army didn’t make that kind of money, so where would Samuel get it? Slowly, it came to him. The senator had to be rich, and Liberty would inherit everything. She would have not only her money, but her father’s. A woman’s wealth al went to her husband on the day they married.

Samuel’s reason for wanting to marry Liberty became crystal clear.

A sick feeling hit the bottom of his stomach, hurting worse than any blow could have. If Samuel married Liberty for her money, he wouldn’t care how long she lived. The

“accidents” she experienced the night he kidnapped her would continue to happen until one kil ed her. Then Samuel Buchanan would be a rich widower.

Tobin struggled, ghting to get free as the men bedded down for the night.

He watched them, looking for one who might see reason. The one cal ed Hawk was cold and wouldn’t listen, but the shorter man he’d seen talking to the lieutenant had said he didn’t like the idea of kil ing a ranger. So, he must have some standards. But there was no way of talking to him without others hearing.

Tobin would have to wait.

An hour passed and then another. Tobin watched and waited.

Something moved slowly across his arm and Tobin jerked. He hated snakes.

Then it dawned on him that it was far too cold for snakes. He forced a long breath out to relax.

The touch came again, right at his wrist. Something pul ed against the rope.
Roak
.

Tobin almost said it aloud. The kid had come back for him.

While he felt a knife hacking through the rope, Tobin smiled. He’d see Roak had the best horse on the ranch for this.

When the rope broke, Tobin had to force his hands to remain stil . Not al the men were asleep. He had to wait.

He thought he heard leaves crunch and guessed Roak had disappeared back into the blackness.

The wind began to howl. One of the men tossed a huge log onto the re and several others rol ed up tighter in their bedrol s.

Tobin studied each one. They were too far from a road or town to worry about anyone passing by, so the re was safe and they hadn’t bothered to leave a guard.

One man sat near the horses, but as a midnight fog settled in he disappeared from Tobin’s view.

Tobin, his arms stil stretched backward, moved a few inches around the tree. When he was no longer in view of half of the men, he stepped away from the tree and vanished in the blackness of a moonless night. His moccasins left no trail as he moved silently.

An hour later when Tobin made it back to where he’d left his horse, Roak was waiting for him.

Tobin swung up and offered his arm to the kid.

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Roak shook his head. “I’m not going back with you. This is not my ght and I don’t want to be in the middle of it. With my luck, both sides would shoot at me. But when this is al over, I plan to walk across that bridge and right up to the house to claim my horse.”

“It’l be waiting for you.” Tobin offered his hand. “Thanks.”

The kid hesitated, then took his hand. “Drummond Roak,” he said. “That’s my name, if you’re interested.”

Tobin wasn’t surprised the boy had a strong grip. “I’l not forget you.”

Drum stepped away. “I promised Sage I wouldn’t steal no more horses. Tel her I’ve decided to be a man of my word, wil you?”

Tobin laughed. “I wil .”

He turned his horse toward home and rode hard. By rst light they had to be ready for trouble. Big trouble.

chapter 24

Y

Liberty stood in the shadows at the corner of

the long porch and waited for Ranger Liam to step into the bunkhouse for another cup of coffee. She’d studied the old man al evening and found him quite predictable. He al owed himself one smoke an hour and drank one cup of coffee when the cigarette was gone.

He’d been nice enough, polite even, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he would be like if he knew al this mess was her fault. If she hadn’t been fooled by Captain Samuel Buchanan, Ranger Liam wouldn’t be here losing sleep while he watched over her. She also reasoned he hadn’t come to help her, but simply because the McMurrays had asked him. To the old man, who probably spent most of his life ghting outlaws along the edges of civilization, a Washington senator’s daughter would mean little. But the Mc-Murrays were friends, and in this country that meant offering your gun when needed even if it was to protect a woman who’d been a fool.

Her father was right. She always acted before she thought. She’d been rushing through life since she was born: running before she had walking down, jumping into things before she thought them out. But this time not only her wel being was at stake, but others might be harmed. She could not stand by and let that happen.

Liberty waited for her chance to run. Ranger Liam would go in for coffee soon. The barn would be an easy distance to make if she could dart straight, but she couldn’t risk being caught in the light. She had to skirt the corral, doubling the distance to the barn.

Liam stood and lifted his cup. He tossed the leftover grounds in a neglected ower bed and studied the darkness in the direction of the bridge one last moment.

Liberty stepped off the porch and watched his back as he opened the bunkhouse door.

She took a deep breath when he disappeared inside.

“Run!” she whispered as she bolted.

The night air was crisp with a dampness that stung her cheeks. She crossed just outside the light. If Travis and Teagen were stil up, they wouldn’t be able to see her from the house. She thought they were both asleep, but she hadn’t checked. She’d heard Travis say he’d relieve Liam an hour after midnight.

With luck, no one would miss her until morning.

Liberty made it to the barn. She glanced back toward the bunkhouse, relieved to see no sign of Liam’s returning to his post.