Texas Ranger, Runaway Heiress. Carol Finch

with fury. He gnashed his teeth as he released her arm to spin on his well-shod heels. “We will continue this conversation later.”

      “No, it’s over,” she said in no uncertain terms.

      He paused momentarily to look back at her. His gaze narrowed in a menacing frown. “You are going to regret your decision, Gabrielle. I promise you that.”

      She silently wished him good riddance and a quick one-way trip to hell as he struck a confident pose, then swaggered down the street. Bri glanced at the pocket watch she held near and dear. She knew it was ill-advised to go gadding about after dark in this rowdy town, but she felt the need to walk off her frustration. Plus, she wanted to make arrangements at the livery to buy a reliable horse and tack for her journey. She decided to save the interviews for a prospective guide and the gathering of necessary supplies until the next morning.

      Battling a tired yawn, Bri strode toward the livery stable, following behind a cluster of citizens that were moving down the boardwalk toward the theater. She didn’t want to isolate herself and risk being whisked off by the rougher element of society—like the two cretins she had encountered in the hotel hallway—while she was mentally distracted.

      Bri glanced around, wondering if there was anyone else besides the rougher elements gallivanting at night in a town known as one of the toughest places this side of hell. Probably not. Except for the brawny stranger who kissed like nobody’s business and left her burning with forbidden desire.

      

      After a refreshing bath and a short nap, Hud exited the hotel. He scowled sourly when he found himself glancing up and down the dark streets, trying to locate the mysterious woman in drab gray who had kissed him senseless then pulled her vanishing act without a word of explanation.

      Whoever and wherever she was didn’t matter, he told himself sensibly. He had ventured out this evening to enjoy a drink and scratch the itch the mysterious kissing bandit provoked. Afterward, he’d swing by the stagecoach depot and inquire about the arrival of Commander Price’s spoiled daughter.

      Too bad she didn’t have the good sense to stay in Austin where she belonged. She could have saved him this frustration. The thought of the prissy socialite and her politician of a fiancé spoiled Hud’s mood. He quickened his pace, planning to veer into the nearest saloon. To his dismay, guttural snarls caught his attention. He stopped short when two burly bodies, locked in a bear hug, slammed into the clapboard wall of a saloon. The men—one was a buffalo hunter and the other a cowboy, judging by their style of clothing—crashed across the boardwalk and rolled into the street. Their drunken oaths and vicious growls captured the attention of passersby. Patrons also spilled from the saloon to egg on the brawlers.

      Hud glanced toward the marshal’s office that sat twenty yards from the fort’s guardhouse at the bottom of Government Hill. He sighed in exasperation when Marshal Long didn’t rush from the office to break up the fight. Well, hell, he thought. He’d had to separate drunken brawlers in hellholes like The Flat plenty of times. Apparently, tonight was no different.

      When the two snarling men threw punches at each other, drew blood and turned the night air blue with foul curses, Hud grabbed the reins to the nearest horse. Then he walked the horse between the two downed men, forcing them to roll away or be stepped on. Their choice.

      Disappointed that Hud had spoiled their entertainment, the saloon crowd wandered back to the bar.

      “Who the hell do ya think you are?” the scraggly-haired hide hunter muttered as he straightened his buffalo vest and glowered at Hud.

      “Yeah, mind yer own b’ness,” the cowboy slurred out as he blotted his bloody lip with his shirtsleeve.

      “What’s going on here?”

      Hud glanced over to see the marshal striding toward him. If Hud wasn’t mistaken, Calvin Long, the bandy-legged law officer whose birdlike facial features had earned him the nickname of Sparrow, had dressed hurriedly. His shirt was fastened unevenly and the top buttons on the placket of his breeches were gaping. Hud speculated the marshal had stopped in the red-light district while making his evening rounds.

      Hud had been on his way to seek out the same diversion, especially after the mysterious female had started a fire in him with her scorching kisses.

      Calvin Long cocked his head in a birdlike manner and studied Hud for a long moment. “Stone, isn’t it?”

      Hud nodded.

      “Wish you’d stop in more often. Since this town has grown to a population of two thousand, not counting the influx of hide hunters and cowboys who pass through here like blustery winds, I could use an extra hand keeping the lid on this place.”

      “I’ll help you haul your rowdy friends to the calaboose,” Hud volunteered.

      He grabbed the cowboy by the nape of the shirt and marched him toward the jail while the marshal ushered the greasy-haired buffalo hunter down the boardwalk.

      “Damn cowpuncher,” the hide hunter scowled as he wobbled unsteadily on his feet. “I saw her first. He had no cause to interfere with me.”

      “You were fighting over a woman?” Hud asked as they approached the jail. “I haven’t met a woman who’s worth a gut punching or a split lip.”

      “This goon was trying to drag the poor woman into the alley,” the cowboy muttered out the uninjured side of his mouth. “I was rescuing her from this ugly brute. I don’t belong in jail. He does!”

      “Ha! You wanted her for yerself. But she was workin’ me over too good without yer interference.” The buffalo hunter readjusted his wooly cap then leaned heavily on Marshal Long for support. “She kicked me right square in the crotch when I latched on to her. Then she hit me with somethin’. Don’t know what but it set me off.” He hitched his thumb—which sported a dirty, jagged fingernail—toward the cowboy. “Then this cow-faced wrangler showed up to take her away from me.”

      “I was defending her honor, you smelly bastard,” the cowboy sneered insultingly.

      “She didn’t need no help. She took off down the alley like a gray blur and left me on my knees, tryin’ to catch my breath.”

      Gray blur? Hud shot a quick glance over his shoulder to the alley. The kissing bandit? he wondered. Where was she now? Had she returned safely from wherever she’d come from?

      A shadowy movement in the alley caught Hud’s attention. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” he said, striding off.

      Hud muttered an oath when the elusive female backed into the deepest reaches of the alley, making it impossible to see her face again. “I want to know who you are,” he demanded as he approached. When she pivoted on her heels, he said, “Don’t make me chase you down, because I can and I will do it.”

      She turned to face him and he cursed that droopy bonnet that hid her features as he approached. “Are you all right?”

      She nodded and her bonnet flopped over her face.

      “You weren’t hurt by the hide hunter?” When she shook her head no, he said, “Tell me your name.”

      She didn’t speak, just curled her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him senseless again. Instant pleasure assailed him and he wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her hard and hungrily for a long, breathless moment. Then she traced his lips with her forefinger and backed away.

      “Hey! Are you coming to help or not?” the marshal shouted impatiently.

      “I’m on my way,” Hud called over his shoulder.

      To his dismay he glanced back to see that his fantasy woman had vanished like a specter evaporating into nothingness. Grumbling at the kissing bandit’s amazing ability to melt down his brain then disappear at will, he strode toward the marshal. He told himself to forget about the mysterious woman and focus on locking the brawlers in jail. Then he could quench his thirst, scratch an itch and wait for Commander Price’s daughter to arrive