Texas Ranger, Runaway Heiress. Carol Finch

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 in The Flat.

      Chapter Three

      When the two men were locked behind bars, Hud glanced curiously at the marshal. “Do you know if a female passenger arrived on the stagecoach today?”

      Calvin suddenly noticed his improperly buttoned shirt. He smiled guiltily as he corrected the problem.

      “Better check your gaping placket while you’re at it,” Hud suggested with a wry grin.

      “Well, hell,” Calvin grumbled self-consciously. “It’s getting to where a man can’t follow pleasurable pursuits when he’s on break without being interrupted by gun-fights, brawls and such. In the past week there’s been a duel on the street, an unidentified body left in the alley and a half-dozen saloon brawls. Not to mention corralling an abusive drunk in the red-light district.”

      “About the stage passengers?” Hud prompted. “I’m supposed to escort the commander’s daughter to the Ranger camp.”

      Calvin nodded in recognition. “I heard there were a lady and a highfalutin political candidate on board the stagecoach. But I didn’t see her in person. The coach rolled in late this afternoon.” He lifted a thinning brow. “The commander’s daughter, you say?”

      Hud nodded.

      “I don’t know where she is, but I saw that Powell character strutting around like a rooster earlier this evening. He’s campaigning for senator and he was shaking a few hands after the theater performance. Then he strutted off with a crowd of cowboys. My guess is that he was planning to buy a few votes by paying for several rounds of whiskey at one of the saloons. The woman is probably holed up in Brazos Hotel since it offers the best accommodations in town.”

      After Hud fielded the marshal’s questions about the reports of Comanche and Kiowa raids against supply wagons and the threat of Mexican and white outlaw gangs stealing everything they could carry off, he stopped in for a long-awaited drink at a saloon.

      First thing in the morning he would seek out Miss High-and-Mighty Price and arrange for the return trip to camp. He dreaded the jaunt and the unwanted company, but at least this escort detail would take only a few days. Then he could concentrate on finding Mad Joe Jarvis and his sidekick, Pete Spaulding.

      Bri had been lingering in the shadows of the alley, watching the brawny stranger break up the brawl between the lecherous bastard who’d grabbed her and the drunken cowboy who’d tried to come to her defense—and had accidentally gotten in her way. She would’ve had that stinking hide hunter laid out like a corpse in the dirt, suffering a brain-scrambling blow to his hard head if the cowboy hadn’t charged in.

      She hadn’t lost the knack of self-defense, she mused proudly. Benji Dunlop had taught her well. She remembered every dirty trick and had used several on the drunken brute before she knocked him to his knees. What she didn’t know was why she’d allowed the tall, muscular stranger to approach her when she could have lost herself in the shadows of the alley, despite his claim that he could track her down.

      After the stranger and the marshal hauled the two men to jail, Bri wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders and scuttled back to the hotel. She could rest easy now. She had contacted the livery owner and purchased a sturdy mount and had gathered a few supplies as well. However, she had yet to hire a dependable guide. She frowned pensively, wondering where she might find a reliable escort in a town jumping alive with scoundrels.

      Perhaps she could hire the stranger, she mused as she locked the door to her hotel room. He was obviously competent. She had watched him break up a street fight without sustaining so much as a scratch.

      Bri removed her gown to stitch up the shoulder seam the hide hunter had ripped loose when he became pushy and insistent.

      On second thought, it wouldn’t be wise to approach the ruggedly handsome stranger she’d brazenly kissed twice in the same night. If he recognized her, he might presume that he was entitled to fringe benefits during their cross-country jaunt.

      Then again, if he didn’t recognize her…

      Bri set aside her mended gown to prepare for bed. Maybe she would approach the stranger and test the waters. If he didn’t recognize her she might offer him a job as her guide. He’d proven himself capable of handling adversity this evening. Whoever and whatever he was, he had remained cool and collected while breaking up the brawl.

      Bri admired that about him. Not to mention her appreciation of the arousing way he kissed. The erotic thought sent wicked pleasure rippling through her. Smiling secretively, Bri laid her head on her pillow and fell fast asleep. Two hours later she awakened in the middle of such a vivid fantasy that her body burned with forbidden desire. Chastising herself, she crammed the pillow over her head and tried to sleep without dreaming.

      Eaton glanced at his bejeweled pocket watch. He’d bought a round of drinks and encouraged the saloon patrons to cast their votes for him in the upcoming election. Impatiently he finished off his drink and killed another few minutes before the clandestine meeting he’d arranged with his new associate.

      He swallowed a grin, remembering that Sylvia would be waiting for him when he concluded his business. Eaton cast aside the lusty thought as he sauntered from the saloon to the gaming hall. When the three men appeared on the boardwalk, he inclined his head toward the alley.

      Eaton tapped the butt of the pistol he carried beneath his expensive jacket to make sure he was still armed—just in case. Muggings were commonplace in this hellhole and he didn’t intend to become a victim while he arranged for his newfound friend’s hirelings to deal effectively with Gabrielle.

      “Now, what is this task you require, in exchange for my financial support and your political loyalty?” Ray Novak asked then puffed on his cigar.

      Eaton surveyed his new cohort’s bulky physique and bushy eyebrows. The rancher shared the same fetish of dressing in the finest clothing money could buy. A man after my own heart, Eaton thought as he walked deeper into the shadows of the alley so no one could overhear him.

      “I’m having a problem with my contrary fiancée,” he murmured. “I trust your two men can make the necessary accommodations. I intend to teach her a lesson and to promote my campaign. Of course, this favor will benefit you as well.”

      “Count on it.” Novak smiled around the cigar he had clamped between his teeth.

      Then Eaton got down to the dirty business of hammering out the details.

      The next morning Bri started when someone rapped abruptly on her hotel room door. She glanced at her watch, surprised Eaton had piled out of bed at this early hour, even if he was driven by the need to convince her to reconsider their engagement.

      “Not a chance in hell that I will change my mind,” she vowed as she opened the door. She blinked in surprise when the brawny stranger who had tormented her dreams loomed on the threshold, not Eaton.

      “Miss Price, I presume.”

      His deep, resonant voice rolled over her. She was quick to note that he didn’t seem surprised to see her. There was no flicker of recognition in his whiskey-colored eyes that were surrounded by thick black lashes. He was as tall as she remembered and his face was tanned. Raven hair protruded from beneath the brim of his hat.

      Although he wore buckskin breeches and a dark button-down shirt that looked the worse