The Texas Ranger's Daughter. Jenna Kernan

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СКАЧАТЬ His trimmed goatee, air of authority and Southern accent all made Laurie wonder if he had been an officer for the Confederacy from one of the original secessionist states, Virginia or Georgia perhaps.

      He approached Boon, circling him as if Boon was a recruit called out for inspection.

      “They shot your horse, Boon,” said Cal.

      “But they didn’t kill him. I did that, riding toward San Antonio. Bled to death not four miles from the last stage station. Told the station master I got bushwhacked by Comanche.”

      “Damn fine horse, that,” said Hammer, straightening up, a note of remorse in his voice. “Fast as prairie lightning.”

      “He was that.”

      Hammer’s mouth twitched. Laurie found herself holding her breath, though why she should care whether Hammer believed this man’s story, she did not know.

      “You been gone awhile.”

      Boon nodded. “Had to steal a horse and I ran into some trouble over the saddle.”

      Hammer whirled, closing the distance between them. “Trouble?”

      Laurie inched farther from the circle, praying for some opportunity to run. They had secured her wrists in front of her, but left her legs free. If she could get up on that horse she might get away in the dark. She was a good rider, or had been, in what now seemed another lifetime.

      Hammer grabbed the front of Boon’s shirt in his fist. Boon didn’t cower the way Larson had, nor did he lift a hand to defend himself.

      “You bring anyone this way and I’ll skin you alive.”

      “I left that deputy in Abilene. Lay low for a few days. Been looking for you ever since. Tried the holdup we used north of San Antonio but found no sign. I thought that was where you was all heading.”

      Hammer released him and scratched the stubble on his chin as he eyed Boon. “Changed our mind after you went missing. Those damned Rangers hung Wilson.”

      Boon flicked his gaze at her. She stopped moving, frozen like a rabbit as her heart pounded in her throat. He held her gaze an instant longer then turned his attention back to their leader.

      “Bender and his men.”

      Laurie’s ears perked up at the mention of her father’s name.

      “Hung Wilson from a mesquite tree on the Brazos. Now I’m looking to hurt him bad. Got the opportunity when Freet here robbed a mail stage. Lucky Cal reads so good. Found us a letter from this little missy here.” Hammer stroked her head and Laurie pulled away. Hammer laughed.

      “Told us your train and when to meet you. Didn’t you, Laurie?”

      So that’s how they found her. Laurie felt so stupid she could die. Probably would die. Why hadn’t she noticed her escort was no Ranger? She should have noticed. Her father certainly would have.

      “She’s my revenge. Going to be sweet, too.” He raised his voice to a yell. “Ain’t she, boys?”

      The men hollered and whistled while Laurie shivered as if she stood naked before them.

      Hammer glanced to Laurie and she went hot and cold until her body seemed to vibrate like struck iron. Hammer patted Boon on the shoulder and led him a few steps away. “Spent some time at a new place outside of Wichita Falls rustling cattle, but too much law over that way so we came west again.” Hammer released his hold on Boon’s shoulder, that terrible, pleasant smile still fixed on his face. “You get your horse settled and come back. We’ll talk about you joining up again. You bring anything?”

      Boon nodded, sticking his thumbs beneath his belt. “When do I get my gun back?”

      George held Boon’s gaze. Boon didn’t look away as the others always did. Hammer didn’t like that kind of challenge, so the outlaw drew his gun and aimed his weapon at the young man’s middle.

      Boon held his easy stance, giving no indication he was frightened. George laughed.

      “I think I’ll keep your pistol for a while, Boon. You understand.”

      Boon nodded. The man was either the coolest customer Laurie had ever seen or just plain crazy.

      The young outlaw turned back to his escorts and motioned with his fingers. The guard who’d accompanied him into the camp made a face, glanced at their leader and then handed over a Winchester repeater. Laurie recognized it, for it was similar to the model her father had given her for her tenth birthday, back when they were best friends instead of strangers.

      Boon offered the repeater, butt first, to Hammer.

      “Took it off a cowpoke who tried to stop me taking one of their beeves.”

      Hammer nodded, an absent smile returning to his face. He accepted the offering, spun and aimed at the men standing by the fire, shooting one round after another. The dust at their feet flew up as the men dove behind the ring of logs.

      “Seems to fire a little low,” said Hammer conversationally to Boon.

      “Every weapon takes getting used to,” he answered.

      Hammer nodded, using the lever to expel the final empty round, and then relaxed his arm so that the weapon now hung at his side.

      The outlaws dusted off their trousers and chaps as Hammer turned toward the dilapidated house. Laurie saw her opportunity, bolted to her feet and ran toward the horse Boon had vacated. She leaped and Boon caught her in midair, spinning her around as he captured her in his strong arms. He brought her back to the ground, keeping hold of her, pressing her back against his chest so she faced the others.

      He held her as she struggled, his body hard and his grip unbreakable.

      George Hammer stalked back to Laurie, opened his hand and slapped her across the face. The sting of the slap made her eyes water, but the damage could have been much worse had her captor not pulled her away from the direction of the blow the instant the outlaw struck.

      Laurie blinked in shock, waiting for the second blow, but George Hammer seemed oblivious to what had just happened.

      He narrowed his eyes on Boon and raised his voice. “Least one of my men ain’t too drunk or too stupid to make himself useful.” He whirled and kicked at the closest man, but he dodged, scrambling backward over the log.

      “She gets away and I kill someone.” He stalked toward the house.

      Laurie turned her head to look back at her captor. His face was cold and grim, his jaw muscles bulged.

      “Thank you,” she whispered.

      “Shut up,” he growled then grabbed her elbow and dragged her back to the logs, pressing her into place none too gently. “Don’t move.”

      He left her to return to his horse and released the girth before swinging the saddle free and setting it on the rail beside the others. Then he rubbed the gelding down with a hank of dried grass, before setting him loose in the paddock.

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