The Texas Ranger's Secret. DeWanna Pace

maybe, but not a husband.

      * * *

      “May I speak to your husband, ma’am?” Gage eyed the blacksmith’s wife and waited for her to allow him to step inside their quarters. The fragrance of ginger cookies permeated the air, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything today and needed to. That would have to wait even longer. Though he looked wetter than a duck in a flood and needed to get out of his soaked clothes, he’d made a promise to Willow McMurtry and he’d keep it.

      “It won’t take but a minute,” he promised, wishing he still had his hat so he could pull it down and spare Pigeon the sight of his scars.

      But then Willow would have had to ride back home without anything to protect her from the rain. That that caused him any concern had been as much a surprise to him as offering to clean the blankets for her. She brought out a consideration for people he thought he’d lost in long years of riding herd on criminals.

      Bear’s wife pulled her shawl a little closer around her but stepped aside and let him in. “The rain cooled things off some.”

      “Sure did, ma’am.”

      She wore a frailty about her. Her rosy cheeks looked flushed from fever, not good health, and her breathing seemed shallow and brief.

      “Mind if I stay right here on your rug so I don’t track up your floors? Wouldn’t want to put you to any more trouble.”

      “No trouble.” She smiled kindly, but her eyes looked tired, her gray hair braided to one side as if secured for bedtime even though it was barely late afternoon.

      “Come on in and pull up Bear’s rocker next to the fire. Dry yourself off some and I’ll fetch my husband. He’s sorting the mail, getting it ready to post over at the mercantile and such.” She excused herself and went into a room farther back in the cozy decorated home.

      Gage knew and such meant that on the days the stage didn’t run, the smithy made a habit of taking mail to folks he knew who had a hard time picking it up from the mail slots located at the mercantile for that purpose.

      At first, Gage had thought Bear was too eager to help out with the mail and wondered why. But then he’d discovered that Bear and Pigeon always handed out ginger cookies to the children who waited while their parents read letters and decided whether they would write one in reply. The couple lent a hand in reading or writing the missives for those who couldn’t do so themselves. Gage thought the Funderburgs were some of the kindest people he’d ever met. He promised himself before he left High Plains for good, he would find out what had spurred their need for such kindness.

      “Yes? How can I help you?” Bear entered the main room, his gaze sweeping over Gage as he sat in the chair holding his gloveless hand out to warm it.

      Gage started to stand but the blacksmith motioned him to remain seated and pulled his wife’s rocker alongside.

      The rocker creaked with the smithy’s great size as he sat. “Glad to have some company. Pardon my missus. She’s not up to visiting and asked that I give you her apologies. Trying to save her energy for the Parker wedding tomorrow. But she did manage some cookies, if you’d like one or two. I could scrounge up some coffee or tea, if you like.”

      A cookie and something to drink sounded wonderful, but Gage didn’t think it fair to take the man’s hospitality when he was about to tell him they’d nearly burned down his livery.

      “No, thanks. I promised a friend I’d pass along a message to you. We ought to get on with that so you can get back to your sorting. Warming up is good, though.”

      “I saw you watching our newest arrival earlier.” Bear rocked back and forth. “This got anything to do with Willow McMurtry?”

      Surprise filled Gage. It shouldn’t have. From all he’d noticed about Bear through his weeks in High Plains, the smithy seemed to know everyone’s comings or goings. Of course he would pay attention to someone like him standing around eyeing people, not taking up work anywhere.

      Bear probably wondered what he did for a living. No one in the area knew for sure except Teague, his fellow Ranger, whom he had helped in catching some local bank robbers. The engaged couple might have a clue he was part of Texas’s Special Forces, but if they did, they hadn’t disclosed that fact to anyone yet.

      “Yeah, I’m here about her.” Gage told Bear how he’d taken shelter from the rain, about the accidental fire and how they’d managed to get it under control. “We didn’t want you to go in and wonder what had happened. She didn’t want to leave before making it right with you, but it was as much my fault as hers. So I told her I’d take care of telling you.”

      He looked the smithy in the eyes. “I think I startled her when I came in and made her drop the match. I’d like to offer to pay for the damage or see who you think could best repair the wall. I’ll hire them to do the job. I’d do it myself but I’m not that good at carpentry.”

      Gage didn’t know if he would be able to see well enough to repair the wall.

      Bear put his palms on his knees and rocked back and forth, studying the fire. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer, friend. The Trumbo brothers are excellent carpenters. Together, they could have a wall replaced in an hour, maybe two. You sure it’s safe and will hold until tomorrow or the next day?”

      Gage nodded. “I checked it close enough. It’ll hold.”

      “Good. Then I have a request for you.”

      “Name it.” The smithy was being fair about the whole situation. Anything Bear asked would seem trivial to building a wall.

      “I have some mail that needs to be delivered to Daisy and her sister. Wished I’d heard them before they took off for home. I guess I was so concentrated on the mail I didn’t hear them come or go. But I do have it sorted enough to give them theirs. Daisy’s been getting all kinds of correspondence since making wedding plans, and what with her intended inviting half the territory, who knows if these are important letters to read before the wedding or not? I’m a bit surprised Miss Willow’s received one so soon.”

      “Somebody wanted to make sure the letter was here on her arrival. Wonder why,” Gage speculated aloud.

      “Hard to guess,” Bear answered, “but if you agree to deliver the letters for me, maybe you can discover the answer to that. I wouldn’t have to leave Pigeon by herself and you could find out from Daisy if her brothers-in-law plan to be at the wedding. If she says they will, you could ask them yourself if they want the work. Sometimes they do. Sometimes you couldn’t pay them enough to keep them inside anywhere.”

      Gage understood that. He’d spent his life reading trails. He understood the wide-open and limitless distance and felt cooped up anytime he was inside. Losing his sight would definitely narrow his ranging space.

      No time to feel sorry for himself. He could get his hat sooner if he delivered the letters, maybe get back in time to get it cleaned up and dried enough to attend the ceremony.

      Quit kidding yourself, Newcomb, he told himself. You’re hankering to see Willow sooner than you thought. There was no reason whatsoever not to wait until morning to make the delivery. He could speak to the Trumbo brothers at the reception. If they didn’t attend, somebody would know where to find them. From what he’d heard and seen of them, the brothers weren’t exactly men who kept themselves inconspicuous.

      Surely no letter was so important that it was worth disrupting the preparations for the wedding or putting himself in danger of revealing his weakness. What if the rain continued for most of the evening and he lost his way in the downpour? How would he explain that to anyone and offer a logical reason without arousing speculation?

      One nagging thought kept bothering Gage. What if that insistent letter to Willow had anything at all to do with Stanton Hodge? A wedding might be perfect to bring the snake out of his den to strike while everyone in town was distracted.

      He couldn’t take the chance on waiting to find out.