Texas Ranger, Runaway Heiress. Carol Finch

he wheeled around so Commander Price couldn’t see his scowl. Hud didn’t want to be relieved of his duty of tracking a ruthless killer, just so the commander could have his daughter escorted to him for a formal approval of her politician fiancé.

      Swearing a blue streak Hud stalked off to gather his gear, saddle his horse and rush off to Fort Griffin to protect the female who should’ve had more sense than to venture to the hellhole in the first place.

      While Hud was in town, he might take time to single out one of the harlots and scratch an itch that had gone unattended for more months than he cared to count. He ought to get something pleasurable from this mandatory trip. For sure and certain, chaperoning a pampered princess, whose father could dishonorably discharge him from Ranger service for disobeying a direct order, could destroy his future plans.

      Hud glanced into the distance as he crammed his belongings into his saddlebags. He and Speck Horton had planned to build a prosperous ranch on the land grant they were to receive in compensation for their service to the Rangers. Now Speck wouldn’t be around to help Hud make that dream come true.

      Still scowling at the unexpected turn of events that interrupted his manhunt, Hud swung into the saddle, turned his back on Angel Mesa—the rugged caprock that dropped into a maze of canyons—and pointed himself toward Fort Griffin. Two hours later, he realized that he hadn’t bothered to ask the commander for a description of his daughter.

      “How the hell am I supposed to know who she is or where to find her?” he asked Rambler, the sturdy black gelding he was riding. “Right.” He gave a caustic smirk. “She’ll be the one wearing a diamond-encrusted tiara and who has a wide forehead, straight brown hair and dark eyes like her father.”

      Hud had yet to meet Gabrielle—or Bri, the pet name her father used. But he disliked her sight unseen.

      

      Gabrielle Price squirmed restlessly on the hard stagecoach seat and listened to her unwanted fiancé drone his life story to the three male passengers traveling with them to Fort Griffin. She flung Eaton Powell II a disgruntled glance and wished him to be anywhere else but here with her. She hadn’t requested his company on this trip. Indeed, she wanted to come alone but Eaton had insisted on traveling with her. He’d spouted something about protecting her from unscrupulous characters and using the trip to campaign for his next venture as a U.S. Senator.

      Bri knew Eaton’s wealthy family had bought him votes to get him elected into Austin’s politics. She couldn’t imagine how many voters he thought he could contact at The Flat and the fort. The community wasn’t known for being public- or civic-minded. But Eaton claimed he wanted to branch out and locate other donors who might fund his campaign.

      She wondered if his family had finally objected to his excessive habit of throwing around money and ordered him to find someone else to fund his campaign expenses and his extravagant spending.

      Whatever the ulterior reason, Eaton had tagged along, much to her chagrin. She had been stuck on the train and then in a crowded stagecoach with him. So much for this spur-of-the-moment trip that was supposed to take her far away from Eaton.

      “My father and brother are bankers in Austin,” Eaton was telling the other passengers when Bri got around to listening. “But I am more interested in serving my state and nation and becoming a spokesman for the common man.”

      Bri knew Eaton had no real interest in serving anyone anywhere. His priority was his own ambition.

      She turned her head and smirked while Eaton preened and passed around his manufactured smile. He smoothed his dark brown hair into place with an exaggerated gesture of his hand, and called attention to the gaudy rings that sparkled on his long fingers.

      Spokesman for the common man? That was laughable. Not only was Eaton an elitist but he was also an exceptional performer. He could tell a convincing story, make all the right noises and sound sincere when the mood suited him. But mostly he was full of hot air and he bored Bri to tears.

      She had observed him at his best, worst and all moods in between and had found nothing endearing or appealing about him. Furthermore, she wasn’t naive enough to think he felt any fond affection for her. No, it was her mother’s prestigious family name of Roland and their vast wealth that attracted Eaton. Bri’s mother and Eaton’s aunt hailed from what polite society referred to as two of the “first families” in Texas. They had been lifelong friends and they had machinated this betrothal to promote Eaton’s rise to political stardom.

      Essentially Bri was the feather in Eaton’s cap, the merging of one well-heeled family to another. If Bri’s mother had her way—and she did entirely too often—her daughter would become the extension of her own life. A life that hadn’t turned out the way she’d wanted.

      Mother is not going to get her way in this instance, Bri promised herself resolutely. At twenty-three, Bri was old enough to make her own decisions and accept an engagement proposal, if and when she wanted to. She had to convince her father to side with her and to stand against his estranged wife. Besides, Bri couldn’t possibly plan a wedding while she was accompanying her father on his inspection of Ranger battalions in West Texas, now could she?

      The thought of a grand adventure in the great outdoors filled Bri with excitement and anticipation. She thrilled at the prospect of leaving behind polite society and its obsessive preoccupation with her unusual interests and activities.

      Bri stared across the countryside, marveling at the broad river valley flanked by rolling hills that were covered with mesquite and oak trees. Pecans and elms lined the creeks that tumbled into the river. Nothing would please her more than to rent a horse and explore this scenic wilderness.

      “Tell me, gentleman, what are your opinions of the large ranchers who are objecting to our government’s insistence that they pay rent on the public lands where their cattle and horse herds are grazing without restriction?” Eaton asked.

      Bri wanted to express her view about bullying cattle barons. They objected to small ranchers nesting near their domain and using water sources and rangeland that had been designated for public use. Of course, Eaton didn’t want her to have an opinion on anything. She was supposed to be window dressing for the upstart politician.

      She tuned out Eaton, who had interrupted one of the passengers to express his opinion of favoring large ranchers over nesters. Instead, she poked her head out the window to survey The Flat. It was rumored to be one of the four wildest towns in the West. The community was a cultural paradox that not only boasted upstanding storeowners and farmers, but also harbored outlaws, harlots and gamblers.

      It looked as if The Flat did indeed have a motley frontier population, she noted as she studied the individuals who were striding down the boardwalks. The place had sprung up at the base of Government Hill and the streets were lined with dozens of businesses. She spotted two freight offices, a large general store, three cafés, a telegraph office and a newspaper office. She also noticed two banks, a theater, gaming halls, saloons, a livery stable and a row of bordellos that seemed to be doing a thriving business an hour before sundown. Bri could only imagine how prosperous the dens of ill repute became after dark, when more of their potential clients were off work and on the prowl.

      Bri perked up when she noticed the sign announcing the last performance of a traveling repertory company. Several men and woman milled around the redbrick theater, singing ditties and sporting costumes and props to entice attendance. The actors drew considerable attention, Eaton’s included. He came to point like a hunting dog when he spotted four young women flitting around in tight-fitting costumes.

      Womanizer, she mused as she watched Eaton’s hawkish gaze rove over each woman’s physique.

      Here was yet another reason Bri refused to spend her life shackled to this blowhard politician whose sexual appetite was whispered about in drawing rooms. Bri knew loyalty and fidelity weren’t among Eaton’s virtues—if in fact, he had any at all. She couldn’t think of one off the top of her head. But then he’d been getting on her nerves all day so it was hard to think past his annoying faults to find his redeeming qualities.

      As