Carol Finch (2 page)

Physically speaking, he was a rare specimen of brawn and muscle. Nothing like the gentleman dandies she was accustomed to. Not that she would ever be romantically interested in any of the suitors who treated her like a prize catch because of her wealth and affluence in polite society. Neither would she be interested in a man like this gambler, she assured herself sensibly.

Truth be told, Piper wasn’t sure she wanted any man in her life at the moment. And maybe never. She had given up on the idea of love and romance because she had never found a man who inspired her affection, no one who was willing to accept her for who she was.

The whole objective of this long jaunt was to gain control of her own existence without some man trying to dictate, manipulate and use her for his ulterior purposes, she reminded herself.

Her gaze narrowed in concern while she watched the gambler fish two silver dollars from the pocket of his gold brocade vest, then roll them over his fingertips. He had told her no more than three hours ago that thieves lurked in this area. Yet here he was, flashing coins that caught the rapt attention of the stage attendants.

Piper surged forward, tapping her cane in agitation. She clutched the gambler’s arm to draw him aside. “What the dickens are you doing?” she said with a quiet hiss. “Put those coins out of sight. You might as well send an engraved invitation to outlaws that you have money for the taking.”

Quinn stared down at the old crone who stood only a few inches over five feet tall. Her mouth, he decided, was bigger than she was and she never hesitated in using
it. “Where did you get the idea that anything I do is your business?”

Her head snapped up and he knew instinctively that she was glowering at him. “
Your
carelessness and lack of discretion might affect
me.
Can’t you find something else to do besides flaunt your money?”

Quinn did exactly that. He pulled another cigar from his vest and lit it up. When he blew smoke over the top of that ridiculous-looking plumed hat she grew exasperated and tramped off. Her cane beat a sharp staccato on the trodden path.

“A relative of yours, gringo?” one of the stage attendants asked as his gaze followed the old battle-ax until she disappeared around the corner of the adobe station.

Quinn chuckled. “Not hardly. We just met. I’m hoping it will be a short acquaintance.”

To ensure that the attendants knew he carried valuables as well as money, he retrieved the expensive gold pocket watch to check the time. He also flashed the diamond ring he wore on his pinky finger. He noted the interest he had drawn from one of the Mexicans—the same man he remembered from his previous jaunts along this route. He took note of the fact that the man was wearing the same patterned red bandana around his neck that another attendant had been wearing at one of the relay stations.

Quinn frowned curiously as he ambled toward the barn to stretch his legs. As he recollected, at least one attendant at every stage stop between here and El Paso wore similar bandanas. Coincidence? He didn’t think so. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that was how the ring of far-flung spies identified each other.

Quinn derailed from his train of thought when he heard a wild feminine shriek. Instinctively, he took off at a dead run. When he rounded the corner of the building he saw the widow plastered against the wall, staring at the mutt that bounded around her. When she jabbed her cane forward, the mutt gnawed on the end of it.

“Get away, you beast,” she said, scowling.

“Are you talking to me?” Quinn had to ask.

“No, this mongrel.” She jerked back the cane and the oversize pup approached her.

Quinn barked a laugh when the dog reared up on its hind legs and planted its saucer-size front paws on her bosom. “He’s not attacking. For some reason the pup likes you.”

That in itself surprised him because the old harridan seemed to go out of her way to ensure folks took a wide berth around her. He was still trying to figure out why.

“Get down!” she ordered the mutt. “And behave yourself. I have dealt with enough bad manners for one day.”

To his disbelief, the mutt sank down obediently on its haunches and stared adoringly at her. The dog was obviously so starved for affection that he was ready to align himself with the devil’s sister.

“That’s much better,” she cooed at the pup.

Quinn frowned, bemused by the abrupt change in her voice. His curiosity doubled when she reached down to scratch behind the pup’s floppy ear—the other one stood straight up. Whining, the mutt rolled onto his back, paws stuck in the air, so she could scratch his belly.

“Wonders never cease,” he murmured as he left the
hag with her new friend—the first and last she would likely make during this trip—to get something to eat.

Piper waited until the gambler rounded the corner before she sank to her knees to give the pup another affectionate pat. The dog had startled her when he came bounding up from nowhere to pounce zealously at her. She had expected to be attacked, but from the looks of this scrawny creature all he wanted was food and affection.

“Come along, dog,” she encouraged as she got to her feet. “If this meal is as unappetizing to the palate as the one I had for lunch then you can have my portion.”

The pup bounded onto all fours and trailed along behind her—until the station manager gave him a kick in the flanks when he tried to walk inside. “Get out and stay out, you fleabag.”

Piper whacked her cane against the man’s shins before he could give the poor pup another painful kick. “Leave him alone!” While the barrel-bellied man glowered at her, she surveyed the shadowy dining area, listening to the buzzing of flies, noting the table still had food stuck to it from previous meals. “You may bring my meal outside and don’t be stingy with the portions. In fact, I’ll have
two
plates for supper,” she insisted as she plucked a coin from her reticule then handed it to the proprietor.

Leaving the man staring after her, Piper spun on her heels and hobbled off.

The pup followed devotedly behind her.

“That old lady sure is full of spit and vinegar, ain’t she?” the manager said to Quinn.

“Seems to be,” he murmured absently as he watched
her move more swiftly than he might have expected of someone in her declining years.

The proprietor dipped up several cups of beans and sloshed them on the tin plates. “Here,” he said. “You take these out to the witch and tell her not to waste food on that mutt because he’s slated for execution. He showed up here two days ago and keeps trying to chase the horses for entertainment. I won’t put up with that. These horses have to stay in tip-top shape to pull the coaches.”

Carrying two platters of greasy beans, stale bread and a chunk of meat he couldn’t identify because it was burned to a crisp, Quinn strode over to the shade tree where the dragon lady had plunked down, her faithful mutt by her side.

“Don’t get too attached to the mutt,” Quinn cautioned as he handed her one plate and set the other one on the grass for the dog. “The manager is talking extermination. This could be the mutt’s last meal.”

Quinn started when the woman suddenly bounded to her feet with considerable speed and agility.

She thrust her plate back at him. “We’ll just see about that! Extermination indeed!”

And off she went, leaving Quinn to watch the mutt slurp up the beans, then devour the bread in two gulps. A moment later the crone approached, carrying another plate of beans. In disbelief, Quinn watched her set a second plate between the mutt’s oversize front paws.

“No one is going to turn you into tomorrow’s main course,” she told the dog in that nasal voice that reminded Quinn of someone raking fingernails across a
blackboard. “Your miserable life just got better, dog. Wish I could say the same for mine.”

Quinn rolled his eyes when the woman plunked down to pat the mutt’s head while he gobbled the second helping of food. What was wrong with this woman? She could be civil and caring to a scroungy mutt, but she wanted nothing to do with him?

Well, what else was new? he asked himself as he handed her the supper plate, then walked off to take his meal indoors. He had been fighting for respect and acceptance for most of his life and never got it. He had been fighting, period. Hell, it was all he knew.

Since when did you start brooding over the hand fate dealt you, Callahan? You just play your cards the best you can and consider yourself lucky. Your life could be worse. You’ve already seen the worst humanity can rain down on each other. Just right the wrong and see to it that justice gets served.

T
his poor dog was not going to be rejected and cast off the same way her father had turned his back on her older sister, Piper decided as the gambler walked off. Indeed, part of the objective of this trip was to see that her sister received rightful compensation. She was here to ensure that at least one of Roarke Sullivan’s loud decrees didn’t stick. If Roarke hadn’t realized it yet, he would soon discover that he had lost control over
both
his daughters.

Resolved of purpose, Piper made sure the mutt was well fed and bathed and approached the waiting coach. When she alighted inside the gambler squinted at her.

“About time. We’re ten minutes behind schedule.”

The crooked smile that came and went in the blink of an eye suggested that he was purposely taunting her. Piper rose to the occasion. “Can’t imagine that it would matter much to a man who has no particular place to go
and has no pressing engagement when he gets there.” She shoved his long muscled legs sideways with her heel to grant her half the floor space.

She snapped her fingers at the mutt that stared hopefully up at her. “Well? Are you coming or not?” When she patted the space beside her on the seat the dog launched himself inside, his wet tail banging against the opened door.

“You are kidding,” the gambler said in astonishment as he watched the pup turn a tight circle, then plunk down next to her. “You both smell like wet dog.”

“I have heard that cleanliness is next to godliness,” she countered.

He smirked. “Didn’t know God categorized folks by how often they bathed.”

“Perhaps not but I didn’t want the mutt to offend you when he climbed aboard with me. I certainly wasn’t going to leave him behind to die.”

“You’re all heart, ma’am.”

“Likewise, I’m sure.”

Piper hated to admit it, but she actually enjoyed their banter. Thus far, the other male passengers had let her be after one or two of her pointed remarks. But this gambler gave as good as he got. Plus, he hadn’t tried to impress her with polished manners and premeditated charm. Not that he had any to spare, of course. The fact that she found this man intriguing and physically appealing astounded her.

“By the way, what is your name? I see no reason for me to keep referring to you as the no-account gambler,” she teased.

“Cal.”

“Cal what?”

“Just Cal. Short and sweet.”

“Short, yes,” she said, chuckling. “But I’m not so sure about sweet.”

When he leaned toward her the mutt jerked up his head. But Cal didn’t seem the least bit alarmed that the dog had become protective of her. She rather suspected that he was trying to get a better look at her through the dark veil.

He tossed her a mocking grin. “What should I call you besides the nagging old hag?”

“Agatha Stewart,” she said without missing a beat.

“Agatha,” he repeated, rolling the name off his tongue. “Somehow that fits you. So…are you going west to
torment
anyone in particular?”

She snickered in amusement. “Just my sister. Luckily we are a great deal alike,” she replied, wondering why she was daring to spend so much time conversing with Cal. She knew she would be better off if they traveled in silence. But she had to admit that she was curious about him and wanted to get to know him better. “Do you have family somewhere,
Calvin?
”

His dark brows flattened and he frowned at her. “The name is just plain Cal.”

“So you say,” she said with a dismissive flick of her gloved hand. “Where does your kin call home?”

Something flickered in his eyes that made Piper think she had accidentally hit an exposed nerve. When he settled himself deeper into the seat and folded his arms over his broad chest, as if closing himself off from her, she stared bemusedly at him.

“I don’t have kin, Agatha.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” she murmured sincerely.

He shrugged. “Forget it.” A moment later a lopsided smile crossed his sensuous lips—and confound it, she was annoyed with herself for noticing. “I’m sure you just couldn’t help yourself. Meddling probably comes naturally.”

Piper was enormously affected by his smile because it altered his entire appearance and changed her perception of him. For the first time in their association she sensed hidden warmth in him, a flicker of humanity. Maybe he wasn’t as much of a good-for-nothing as she had first thought.

He
had
tried to upright her when the bouncing coach sent her plummeting onto the floorboards. He had also been the only one to rush to her rescue when the oversize mutt had startled her. Plus, he had carted out food to her for supper.

He was not without a few saving graces, she realized.

“I hail from Galveston,” she said conversationally, careful to keep the nasal twang in her voice. “My family is disgustingly rich and I have been pampered and spoiled my whole life. Extenuating circumstances, which I won’t bore you with, have made me wary and cynical.”

“Then we are the perfect traveling companions,” he replied. “We may seem like exact opposites, but I suspect we are very much alike.” He nodded his head toward the pup sleeping contentedly beside her. “Like the mutt, I’ve been kicked around, cursed, ridiculed and re
jected most of my life. I’m a mite cynical and suspicious myself, but for entirely different reasons. So…are we about done with the idle chitchat, Agatha? It’s not one of my best talents.”

“I do believe we are done with the chitchat,” she said as she settled back on the seat.

His previous comment about leading a hard life aroused her curiosity. But Piper cautioned herself not to become overly intrigued by a man who was never going to be more than a temporary footnote in this chapter of her life.

“I could use some shut-eye,” he mumbled.

That said, he pulled down his Stetson hat, swung his muscled legs up on the seat and settled in for a nap.

Left with nothing to do—a hazard of lengthy overland coach travel—Piper stared out the window. She surveyed the rugged mountains that rose in the distance, admiring the looming peaks that were swathed in the red-and-purple hues of the sunset.

When the coach hit a bump in the road, she braced herself against the window frame, then patted the mutt’s head when he stirred beside her. Piper noticed that Cal simply shifted on the seat and braced his feet to counter the jarring motion of the coach. This time it looked as if he were actually sleeping rather than faking it.

Piper decided she might as well catch a nap, too. What else was there to do besides contemplate the man across from her? She had thought about him entirely too much already.

Somewhere around midnight, the coach ground to a halt and Quinn groaned tiredly. Having traveled this
route recently he knew they had reached the isolated trading post that rented upstairs rooms to passengers. He stretched his arms and worked the kinks from his back. An amused smile quirked his lips when he noticed Agatha had conked out and lay at an uncomfortable angle on the seat. The dog had curled up between her bent knees and her outflung right arm.

Damn if Quinn could figure out why that mutt was so devoted to the old woman.

Well, yes, he could, come to think of it. Persnickety and outspoken though she could be, she seemed to have a soft spot for strays. She had defended the mutt’s right to survival against anyone who dared to cross her. It was encouraging to know that beneath Agatha’s prickly armor of defense beat a kind and caring heart.

He doubted, however, that she wanted many people to know that because it would destroy the standoffish air she tried to project. But
why
she wanted to keep people at arm’s length he couldn’t figure out. Of course, there were several things about Agatha that puzzled him, he reminded himself.

Quinn reached over to nudge her shoulder, which seemed to be strangely well padded. He wondered if it was her insulation against the rough coach ride from Galveston. “Agatha,” he murmured. “Wake up. There’s a cot with your name on it at this trading post.”

Her quiet moan surprised him. It sounded nothing like the grating voice he was accustomed to hearing from her. Frowning, he studied her in the dim lantern light that sprayed through the window. Yep, there was definitely something about this old hag that didn’t quite add up.

The thought turned to a flash of pain when she came awake with a start and accidentally banged her head into his chin when she pushed herself upright. His teeth snapped together so quickly that he bit his tongue.

“Oh, sorry, Calvin. Where are we? What’s going on? Are we being robbed?” she demanded in an unfamiliar voice.

“No, we’ve just stopped for the night,” he said, studying her suspiciously.

Abruptly, she became the old woman he thought he knew. Her voice changed, and so did her manner. Her image shifted before his eyes as she clutched her cane, then tapped him on the shoulder with it.

“You climb down first. I’ll be behind you when I get my wits together.”

And so he climbed down. He also waited beside the coach—just in case she stumbled and needed a hand down. The dog bailed out first and trotted off to the nearest scrub bush. Then Agatha’s plumed hat and veil came into view. For a split second Quinn thought he caught sight of her face in the light, but she ducked her head so quickly that he couldn’t tell what she looked like.

Having been warned off previously, he didn’t offer to take her hand, but he waited nearby in case she found herself in need of his support. He watched as she carefully extended her foot to the step. She anchored her hands on the door frame, then stepped down beside him.

“Nice place.” She smirked as she scanned the shabby stone and timber trading post that had been built at the base of the rugged mountains. “I’ve heard this part of Texas referred to as Hell’s Fringe. It seems to fit.”

“At least the place is reasonably clean,” he reported as he fell into step beside her. He flashed her a wry grin. “It even has a tub upstairs for those of us who need to bathe. Naturally, I’ll want to spiffy up so I won’t offend you.”

She burst out with a hee-hee-hee, much to his amazement. “Oh, come now, Calvin, surely you know me well enough by now to realize that I would have insisted that you ride up top with the driver and guard if I found you offensive.”

Curiosity got the better of him as they entered the crude trading post. “Let me guess, you ousted someone during the first leg of your journey. Forced them up to the luggage rack, did you?”

“Of course I did. The two heathens reeked of whiskey and turned offensively obnoxious. The stench was so overpowering that it made my eyes water. If I were younger
I
would have climbed atop the coach to avoid them.”

“It might help if you discarded that thick veil,” Quinn suggested. “It probably traps in smoke and foul aromas.”

“And expose this horribly disfigured face of mine?” she scoffed. “Trust me, Calvin, this veil is for your convenience and protection as much as mine.”

When the proprietor—who, according to the wooden plaque on the counter was named Ike—objected to the mutt following Agatha inside, she chastised the mammoth of a man. It wasn’t until she offered a silver dollar to pay for the mutt, that the proprietor backed off.

“Okay, lady, but keep that mangy animal off the bed,” Ike insisted harshly.

“Deal. But I just bathed him. He is as clean as the rest
of us. And certainly much easier to get along with,” she said with a disgruntled sniff.

She plucked the key from his beefy hand and swept off, her cane thumping rhythmically against the floor and the steps as she disappeared from sight.

“Feisty old witch,” Ike muttered after her.

“Hey, leave her alone.” Quinn slammed his mouth shut, wondering why he was defending Agatha.

Apparently, Ike was wondering the same thing because he blinked at him in surprise. “That your granny or something?” he asked as he handed over the room key.

“No, but if I had one I’d want her to be just as full of sass and spunk as Agatha. She doesn’t take any guff and she doesn’t let anyone push her around. You gotta admire that about her.”

“Do I?” Ike pocketed the extra dollar. “Don’t see why I should. I get paid the same for meek and complacent customers, ya know.”

Quinn waited for the guard to haul in their luggage, and then carried his and Agatha’s belongings upstairs. When he knocked on her door, she opened it only slightly to determine who had arrived.

“Thank you, Calvin. You are turning out to be more considerate and sociable than I first thought.” She grabbed the handle of her oversize bag and dragged it into her room. “Well, good night. Don’t forget to check for bedbugs.”

“I’ll do that,” he said before he turned and walked away.

Piper waited until she heard his door click shut before she peeled off her veiled hat. She unpinned her long, silver-blond hair and shook it loose, letting it tum
ble down her back in springy curls. She breathed a long-awaited sigh of relief when she stepped from the cumbersome gown. No wonder she was so tired, she mused as she draped the heavily padded garment over a nearby chair. She wasn’t accustomed to carrying around this extra weight night and day.

She smiled fondly when the mutt plopped down at her bare feet. “Too bad you aren’t a man,” she said. “You, I would enjoy dealing with on a regular basis. Loyal, devoted and true-blue. Unlike most men I’ve met.”

On that thought, Piper stretched out in bed and promptly fell asleep, thankful not to be bouncing around in that dreadful coach and have her stomach churning constantly.

At dawn, Quinn headed down to the spring-fed creek to bathe and change into a clean set of clothes. He’d heard Agatha thumping down the hall earlier, requesting that Ike prepare her bath, so he granted her the luxury of the tub while he sought out more primitive accommodations.

After snooping around the barn, Quinn noticed a new hireling—a thin, wiry white man who wore a bright red bandana, which was tied in exactly the same place on his left shoulder as the attendant he had encountered the previous afternoon. Pulling the silver dollars from his pocket, Quinn wandered over to strike up a conversation while he rolled the coins over his fingertips. He also boasted about the big jackpot he had won at the gaming tables in Fort Stockton.