Give Me A Texas Ranger (23 page)

Hayden was about as angry as he ever recalled being, and he’d been pretty damn mad in his lifetime. It didn’t take him long to reach the livery, saddle up Stewball, and prepare to head out to search for Audrey Jo’s attacker.

Hayden led the gelding out into the morning sunshine.

“Hey, boy.” He spoke to the horse as though he was a friend. In every way that counted, a man’s horse was his best pal. A cowboy could tell him anything, truth or lie, and be guaranteed it wouldn’t be repeated. “Sorry I’ve neglected you these last couple of days, but I’ve got filly troubles.” He patted Stewball, secured his boot in the stirrup, and swung into the saddle. “Yep, a filly. Betcha’ve had your own troubles with fillies, haven’t you, boy?”

The Ranger and his trusted companion headed out of Buffalo Wallow. His heart told him to circle back and tell Ella good-bye, but common sense dictated that there was no time to waste. If things worked out the way he thought they would, he’d be back in her kitchen before the biscuits got hard; and if they didn’t, well, it wouldn’t be the first time he ended up with hardtack and camp brew for breakfast.

As much as Hayden resisted, logic told him it was time to bring in Sheriff Oldham. Audrey Jo’s assault was officially in the sheriff’s jurisdiction, but unofficially it was utmost on Hayden’s mind.

But before he tried to locate the local lawman, Hayden had to step back and view things with a critical, nonjudgmental eye. He couldn’t lose sight of the fact that rangering was a team effort, not one person making his own rules and going off half-cocked. He needed to think things through, locking out his heart. He had to be fair and impartial, regardless of who might be involved. At this point, he couldn’t rule out anybody.

Justice for Audrey Jo was his only concern. Somebody wanted to shut her up, not kill her. The man had a brand of cowardice laid on him that held no redemption. He didn’t play by the rules and couldn’t care less who he took down with him. But why? It wasn’t just her assault that bothered Hayden; it was every tiny fragment of what was going on around Ella that felt like a jigsaw puzzle without even the border in place.

Hayden convinced himself quite easily not to seek out the sheriff right away. Instead, he’d do some footwork first. He reined Stewball toward the shack where the peddler’s wagon was last seen. Although the drummer gave a cockamamie story about heading back to Buffalo Springs to spend the night, something didn’t settle well in Hayden’s gut.

Ella had told him that Willard bedded down near the stream when he wanted to get an early start the next day. So why had he suddenly decided to go back up to Buffalo Springs?

In the dry, hard soil it was easy to trail the fully-loaded wagon’s path, leading away from Ella’s property. Hayden followed along, as the tracks circled back toward the bank of the stream where the mule team had apparently halted just this side of the fallen cottonwood tree.

Hayden reined Stewball in and dismounted, carefully following the driver’s boot tracks leading away from the wagon and eventually disappearing into the stream, where Willard Porter could have gone in any direction without leaving tracks.

Relentlessly, Hayden walked the banks, keeping his eye out for fresh tracks while his mind retraced what he knew as facts.

Although hunting down Audrey Jo’s assailant was paramount, Hayden kept going back to the shed and how the activities surrounding it might fit into someone wanting her harmed.

What was important enough for Muley to spend all of his extra time in the cornfield or the shed; yet not important enough for him to stay off the rotgut?

Facts. Facts. Facts.

Water carted in from the stream instead of the well.

A building reeking of sourdough starter.

Excessive amounts of sugar hauled in.

The only logical answer—moonshine. Sugar added to the starter, with a handful or two of cornmeal tossed in for flavor, would be the makin’s for corn whiskey mash. Mule-kick. Add the brown bottles and a hauler and it was the formula for a booming white-lightnin’ business. And if Hayden had to venture a guess, the yeast smell was coming from barrels where the mash was fermenting. To the best of his recollection, it’d generally take somewhere around two days before the mixture would begin to furiously bubble. Eventually it would quit working and what was left was pretty close to the kick of a mule colt.

That’s what Audrey Jo had served him by mistake. A poorly concocted corn whiskey, as Hayden’s taste buds could attest to.

No doubt in some form or fashion every man he’d seen at the shed was involved in making moonshine and bootleggin’. He’d bring them all down, but the one he wanted most was the man who had hurt Audrey Jo.

The spineless, lily-livered bastard better pray that Sheriff Oldham found him before Hayden did, because he’d show him no mercy.

Audrey Jo had whispered the name of her attacker to him, but experience told Hayden not to stay focused on only one suspect, regardless of how guilty they might seem. He had to take the time necessary to think things through before developing a strategy. He couldn’t mark anyone off his list.

Muley Mullinex, the retiring, bashful bartender who had a dark side when bending his elbow with liquor. He had everything to lose if the illegal operation was exposed; especially the only family he knew.

Willard Porter, the drummer, who transported the white lightnin’ to the railroaders in Wagon Mound, New Mexico. The operation made him a lot of money.

Boisterous Baldy, the loudmouth who seemed to be everywhere and involved in everything that caused havoc. The newcomer to town that nobody seemed to know anything about.

Not giving up, Hayden continued tracking along the banks as far as he thought feasible and returned to where Willard’s wagon was last seen. He methodically checked for boot prints in the direction of Molly Lou’s and finally came across some fresh ones coming out of the stream very near a downed cottonwood. Probably the mail drop, if he had to make a guess.

Sun reflected off something shiny near the tree trunk. Loose dirt covered most of the round metal, which Hayden dug out with his fingers.

A Texas Ranger badge…exactly like the one he wore.

The find numbed his senses, made him lose focus on everything except the badge he continued to stare at. It was a sign of a Ranger’s honor. His judge and his jury. An emblem of proud tradition. The strength of an oak and the peace of an olive branch. Everything he stood for and fought for.

A Ranger would never leave his badge behind on purpose…unless it was intended as a signal or warning.

A burst of sunlight hit Hayden between his eyes. He dropped to his knees. The last thing he remembered before falling deep into the depths of unconsciousness.

For the third night in a row, Ella had kissed Hayden’s silhouette hanging on the wall good night and crawled in the big four-poster bed. Wrapped in her private cocoon of loneliness, her heart ached like an old wound on a rainy day.

Consumed with sharing the duties of caring for Audrey Jo with Dixie, during the day Ella mindlessly went about her business. Camouflaging the deep hurt she felt from Muley abandoning them, she vacillated between how much she cared for Hayden and the fact that, for reasons only he knew, he’d lied to her about coming to Buffalo Wallow. But somewhere deep in the caverns of her soul she knew it was for the right reasons.

The endless night had finally grayed into dawn.

A slice of sunrise broke through the window and woke Ella. She resisted the intrusion. Closing her eyes, she burrowed down beneath her mother’s quilt.

Her thoughts wandered to Audrey Jo. Ella said a prayer that today would be better than yesterday and tomorrow would be better than today.

Ella’s heart broke for the woman. Since her injury, she had sat for hours in lonely silence, withdrawn; allowing the misery of the night she was beaten to haunt her. Although her visual wounds were healing, her heart wasn’t.

Confusion lingered around Audrey Jo. So far, all she could recall was helping clean up the feathers in Ella’s room, and going downstairs for a drink of water. She remembered a calico kitten scurrying across the yard and her following it. She vaguely recalled being grabbed from behind and a man’s big hand covering her mouth. She thought he was going to take advantage of her.

Ella realized Audrey Jo was more fragile mentally than physically, but continued to gingerly ask questions about who hurt her. She shamefully ducked her head when she said he’d said awful things about her. The strong, tall man said something about “you womenfolk are imbeciles” and referred to her as “a pathetic fool.” Then her next recollection was being picked up and carried to Ella’s kitchen.

Although the memories came back to Audrey Jo in tiny fragments, no matter how hard Ella tried, Audrey Jo couldn’t remember telling Hayden the name of her assailant. It seemed to be blocked from her memory.

A soft knock at the door brought Ella back to the morning.

Hayden? Had he returned and they could straighten out the problem with the letter and his assignment? Although the envelope was addressed to him, the letter wasn’t, so that gave him the benefit of the doubt. They’d work things out one way or another. Hayden had not lied to her. She felt it in her soul.

Barefooted, Ella crossed the room. To her delight, Audrey Jo’s red curls bobbled as she asked if she and Dixie could come in. At the moment, Ella wasn’t sure who she would have rather seen standing at the door—Audrey Jo or Hayden.

To hell with the rest of the day! One of Ella’s prayers had been answered. The three women sat cross-legged in the middle of the four-poster bed and talked until their stomachs told them it was time to eat.

“Ella, you know what I’m hungry for?” Audrey Jo said, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Bear claws and apple jelly. You still have some, don’t you?”

“Not any fresh ones, but I have the jelly. Let’s go downstairs and you can help me bake a new batch.” Quickly Ella threw on her ol’ worn-out print dress, combed her hair without bothering to put it up on her head, and ran down the stairs.

Her friend was back!

Dixie put on a pot of coffee while Ella warmed the pastries and Audrey Jo got out plates, cups, and forks. While they waited for the coffee, the three ladies talked some more.

As they sat around the table, Ella decided now was the time to approach a subject she’d been thinking about for a while.

“Since the saloon has been closed for several days now, and I really don’t have any desire to reopen, why don’t we turn it into a café?”

They excitedly agreed, immediately focusing on the menu.

“But nobody but you knows how to bake,” Dixie pointed out.

“Well, there’s no better time than the present to teach you all.” Ella bound to her feet, grabbed her apron, and pulled it over her head. “Dixie, sift some flour. Audrey Jo, get eggs. I’ll be right back with the sugar.”

Ella knew there wasn’t any sugar in the storage room, but since it’d been marked off her supply list in the ledger, she knew the drummer must’ve left some.

Picking up a bucket, she crossed the yard, hoping Muley just hadn’t found time to bring the bag to the storeroom before he went off on his drinking binge. The only logical place where it’d be stored was the ol’ shed.

Gray haze colored the northern sky, and the smell of smoldering brush hung in the air. Most likely someone carelessly burning trash had caught some grass on fire. A worrisome but not an uncommon occurrence.

As she neared the stream she saw Stewball, still fully saddled, grazing. Hayden
had
returned!

Her heart thumped with joy. Her husband had really come back. Another reason to make bear claws. She hurried toward the door to the shack. She could barely lift the heavy wooden bar that kept it secured. On the second try she made it and entered.

The inside was somewhat like she had imagined, yet in other ways totally not what she expected.

Light came through the cracks between the planks making up the outer walls. Two bunks lined the end of the room, with a storage chest sitting at the foot of each one.

Four barrels sat in a row along one wall. Across from it, where horse stalls once stood, wooden crates were stacked five high. A lot of crates. She didn’t have to get any closer to recognize amber whiskey bottles filling each.

Her heart sunk to the bottom of her stomach. Something had been going on right beneath her nose, and it didn’t look like it was on the up-and-up.

And the stench. It nearly made her gag. The odor was like yeast and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Familiar, but not pleasant.

A noise from somewhere near the stack of wooden crates drew her attention. A small kitten scampered out, on the tail of a field mouse.

Her heart settled back to a regular beat.

Another noise. More of a moan. Probably a hurt animal.

Ella set the pail down, and took two steps.

A louder, more distinct groan could barely be heard.

Caring only about getting help for the creature, Ella rushed to the crates and began moving them, clearing enough room to let in light so she could see what was back there.

Ella shoved another stack of crates out of her way, tipping them over. Bottles rolled across the floor. Glass shattered; shards of glass embedded themselves in the dirt floor.

“Oh my God!” Ella screamed.

In the far corner Ella caught sight of a man, gagged with his feet tied together. His bloody shirt clung to his chest. She rushed to him, dropped to her knees, and tore the gag from his mouth. “Hayden. Oh, my God!”

Hayden lifted his head, his piercing eyes shallow and full of pain. Barbed wire was wrapped around his body, tying him to the support post left over from an old horse stall. With hands tied behind him, he was covered like a mummy from his shoulders to his waist with strand after strand of metal. Through dry, blood-caked lips, he managed to whisper, “I knew you’d come, darlin’…”

“Don’t move.” She managed to get his legs untied. Not caring that the barbs pricked and cut her, she attempted to reach through the metal to free his hands. She couldn’t. “You need help.”

A mask of stone came to Hayden’s face, and he tried to swallow. “Go. Get out of here.” His eyes closed then he forced them back open. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re safe.” Ella pulled to her feet and began a frantic search for anything she could use to free him.

In the corner she found a pail of water. Ella had never thought it was a good thing that her dress was old and the material worn, until she began tearing strips off of her skirt and soaking them in the water.

Carrying the half-full pail, Ella rushed back to Hayden, kneeled, and began wiping blood from around his mouth and dry, crusty lips. He opened his eyes and accepted the wet cloth, sucking on it until there was little moisture left.

“How long have you been here?” She removed the rag and again saturated it with water.

“I—I’m not sure.” He shut his eyes and turned his head from side to side, as if that would clear his mind. “Two, three days. Right after I”—he stopped and licked his lips—“after I found Audrey Jo.”

“Three days.” Ella put the dripping cloth in his mouth. “Hayden, please don’t suck on this. Just hold it and keep your mouth moist. You’ll get sick if you drink too much too fast. Plus, I don’t even want to think about what else has been drinking out of the pail. I’m going for help.”

The smell of smoke crept between the cracks and wafted in the air. The fire had to be closer than Ella first thought. She rushed to the door.

Without warning, suffocating out all light, the door slammed shut. The heavy bar thumped loudly when it was put in place.

Panic like nothing she’d ever known welled in her throat. Icy fear twisted around her heart. They were trapped.

“Open the door,” Ella shouted and struck it with her fists, again and again. “Get help. Hayden’s injured.”

She stopped to listen. Thunderous pounding began as a hammer struck nail after nail, permanently closing off the exit. Someone was separating them from the world. Someone who had to know they were inside.

“Help! Help!” She continued beating and yelling. “Help!”

“Shut up, you imbecile,” a man hissed. “You and that Ranger can go to hell.” A loud, boisterous laugh drowned out another round of nails being driven into the wood. “That’ll teach you both not to stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

Their only way out was blocked. There wasn’t even a window in the building. Nothing but wood and dirt. And gallons of fermenting alcohol.

Ella took a deep breath. The air thickened with smoke, but wasn’t unbearable…not yet. She had to free Hayden, but with what?

Damn, it was a shed after all. There had to be some sort of tools around. She searched high and low. What would she do? How could she release Hayden without cutting the wires?

She pulled her skirt up and hurried to the storage boxes by the bunks. Tearing the lid open on the first one, she tossed clothes and other personal items on the dirt floor. She scratched the back of her hand unlocking the second. Tools. A hammer. A saw. Then she saw a pair of wire cutters.

When she reached Hayden and knelt he was more alert. Having a little bit of water and the will to live helped.

Hayden’s eyes widened when he saw the wire cutters and he spat out the rag. “Do you think you’re strong enough to use those?”

“Better than you.” She took a deep breath. “No gloves, so this will have to do.” Ella removed her mother’s apron, tore it in half, and wrapped it around her right hand. Using the fingers on her other hand and her teeth, she secured it with the apron strings. It was a sad imitation of a glove, but she thought it might do the job. She’d just have to do the best she could with her other hand being so loosely wrapped.

She tried to cut through two strands of wire, but they didn’t budge. The cutters slipped from her grip. Blood seeped as the scratch on her arm deepened.

“Take one wire at a time,” Hayden said. “They’re twisted together.”

Using two hands on the cutter, one strand came loose, then another. “Hayden, I know this hurts, but I have to pull the wire taut to get the cutters around it.”

“I’ve been injured worse by big-ass tumbleweeds in a blue norther.” He attempted a smile, but he winced in pain. Closing his eyes, he said, “My money’s on you, darlin’.”

Ella’s hair fell forward and into her eyes. She pushed it back over her ear and continued pressing hard on the shears. Her hand felt numb, but nothing could hurt her worse than seeing the man she loved in pain.

“Can you reach in my shirt pocket?” Hayden said.

“Now’s no time to be cute.”

“I bought something I thought you might like the day we got married, but never got around to giving it to you.” He gave her a smile of almost embarrassment. “Get it out. It’ll hold your hair out of your face.”

She focused on the strands binding his chest nearest his pocket; finally she could reach in. She drew out a tissue paper–wrapped hair clip. Perfect. “I could kiss you for this.” She pulled her hair back. Even with fabric-bound palms, she was able to secure it behind her head.

Ella knew Hayden realized they were trapped, but she didn’t say anything. Maybe if they didn’t talk about it, it wasn’t true. One thing was certain, if he kept talking, it might take his mind off of how much he must be suffering. He’d gritted his teeth and squished his eyes closed, but she knew he wasn’t shutting down the pain.

“Who did this?” She bore down on a piece of wire.

“I don’t know. He hit me from behind.” He stopped and caught his breath. “The next thing I knew I was in here. Whoever did this wanted to slow me down. He isn’t a killer or I’d be dead.”

“And, so would Audrey Jo.”

Hayden nodded. “I’ve done a lot of thinkin’ the last few days. I don’t remember much about my mother. She died when I was little, but I remember her telling me that a kiss would make the hurt go away.” He clenched his jaw. “Ella, would you make the hurt go away?”

Ella kissed him tenderly. Brushing away some dirt from his chin, her lips grazed his again. She smiled tentatively before returning to work. “One strand at a time. Right?”

Keep him talking.

Keep his mind off the hurt.

Keep him safe.

“How’d you get that half-moon scar on your chin?”

“As much as I’d like to say an outlaw whipped my ass, I have to tell the truth. I got it about the fourth time Dad warned me that if I didn’t steer clear of the backside of a mule, it’d kick the hell out of me. Dad was right.”

Ella smiled. “Not exactly how I had imagined it.” She couldn’t resist a smile.

“The fire is getting closer, isn’t it?” He grimaced as another wire sprang back, gashing his arm.

“You can smell it too?”

She continued laboriously working. The makeshift gloves hampered her progress, but without the wrapping she knew she’d not have made it this far.

Ella so badly wanted to bring up the subject of why he had lied to her about being on assignment. All the pieces had fallen together when she saw the barrels and smelled the fermenting whiskey. The bottles cinched it for her. She’d confront him later. They might even have a knockdown-drag-out, but right now her only concern was freeing the man she loved.

Just keep him talking, she reminded herself. It didn’t make any difference, just keep his mind busy. Block out the facts. The fire had to be inching closer. Audrey Jo and Dixie had no idea where Ella had gone. Hayden was in pain.

She snipped away.

“Hold on. I think I can pull out a couple of pieces about ten or twelve inches long. This’ll hurt. Whoever did this not only wrapped it around you but made extra twists, so I can’t just cut a few pieces and release the wire in between.” She closed her eyes and bore down on the cutters.

The strand sprang loose. Blood surfaced on her arm and the wayward metal snagged on Hayden’s shirt. But she had released a big piece of wire from around his chest. She could now reach behind and cut off the ropes securing his hands.

Hayden cautiously pulled his hands in front of him and rubbed his wrists. “Thanks. Give me the cutters. Once I get my circulation back, I think I can maneuver enough to cut some within my reach.” He tried to turn the cutters upside down, but they slipped out of his hand and hit the ground.

Ella handed them back to him. “You never answered my question about the real reason you came to town. That warrant could have been picked up in a dozen more convenient places.”

“The truth. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have the best attitude in the world. Captain thought I was too surly and not particularly a team player. Figured I’d gotten too comfortable as a Ranger; impatient and enjoyed quick-triggered justice more than he thought I should. A throwback to the old Texas Rangers, like my dad and grandfather. Ended up that the captain ordered me to take time off and think things over. When he realized I thought he was just bluffing, he suspended me for a month and suggested I go fishing, which I did.”

Gritting his teeth, Hayden came down on the cutters with a vengeance. Wire separated. “Until the last couple of days, I didn’t see a damn thing wrong with how I viewed things. I was being honest when I told you that I happened into town. But what I didn’t mention was that I expected to have a new assignment when I got here.” Blood squirted. “I didn’t.”

“Hayden, please don’t continue playing me for a fool.” She looked at him. “Your assignment instructions were in my ledger. The one you found on the porch the other morning.” Every fiber in her body warned her that he was telling the truth, but logic countered it. “The envelope was already opened and I read it.”

“What’d they say?” His stare drilled into her, and he tightly clenched his mouth. “If you don’t mind sharing.”

“Stay status quo on something to do with unlawful operations at Molly Lou’s.”

“Did it specifically say Molly Lou’s?” His words were curt.

“Not by name. Called it P.E.S.’s establishment. It also mentioned Mobeetie and Wagon Mound.”

“Anything else you can remember?” The tone of his words only accentuated the annoyance she felt with herself for reading the letter in the first place.

“Consider armed and dangerous.”

The words struck Hayden’s heart like an arrow. He stiffened. With the facts he’d sorted out since he’d been tied up, the picture was becoming clear to him.

“Ella, you didn’t do anything wrong by reading the letter.” Hayden chose his words carefully. “I’d’ve done the same thing. It was deliberately put in there for one of us to find. Probably me. I saw it sticking out of the book, and just shoved it back in.”

“I didn’t know about anything unlawfully operating out of Molly Lou’s,” she said in a broken whisper. “Not until I walked through the door a few minutes ago. I promise.”

“I believe you. Who else uses the ledger?” A barb scratched his bloody hand, but another piece of metal snapped.

“Only Muley. I keep the supply list in the back.”

“Then he was definitely the one who left it on the porch, knowing I’d find it. Something happened that night he didn’t figure on. Maybe going off with the drummer wasn’t part of the plan. Ella, I think he’s been protecting you.” Hayden continued to cut away. “He wasn’t near as drunk as he wanted Willard to think. He left me clues.”

“Clues?” She cleared away the length of barbed wire, placing it in a stack beside Hayden.

“He said something that I’ve heard many a Ranger say. When Willard called the Rangers a bunch of irregular hooligans, Muley responded, ‘might be irregular as hell in everything ’cept gettin’ the job done.’ I heard that all of my life.” He had to stop and take a breath. “Ella, Muley’s too old now, but he was a Ranger back in his younger days.”

Ella coughed and tried not to inhale.

Hayden continued. “Something else. The guy I call Baldy knows something too. But I’m not sure which side of the law he’s on. All I know is, Muley let him in on the bootleggin’. And one thing is for sure—Willard damn sure didn’t like it a bit.”

“The smoke is getting worse. I’m tying this around your face.” She dipped his bandana in water and tied it from behind. At least it’d keep some of the smoke out of his lungs.

Ella followed suit, using a strip off her skirt.

The room was now filling with smoke at an alarming rate. Stifling, burning their nostrils and throats.

Suddenly, from somewhere outside, voices mingled with the sound of metal snapping. Hayden couldn’t tell for sure how many, but there were several people throwing orders around.

“Help’s arrived, Ella. Shout as loud as you can and beat the hell out of the door. Do it like your life depends on it.” A wire snapped. “It does.”

Like a madwoman, Ella ran to the entrance and began banging and screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Keep up the good work, darlin’.” Hayden coughed. “If the fire gets near those kegs, it won’t take much for them to blow us to hell and back. The cornfield is probably on fire and nobody will be able to put it out. Scream, Ella, scream.”

Between shouts, Ella coughed. No doubt her lungs and eyes burned as much, if not more, than his.

“If you can get yourself out, go,” Hayden insisted.

“I still can’t get the door open, and unless Dixie figures out where I was headed, nobody knows we’re in here.” She gave the door a firm wallop. Then another. “And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

More pounding.

“Hayden!” Ella cried, as flames licked at the dry planks near the bunks.