Texas Bride. Carol FinchЧитать онлайн книгу.
exploded with color as she gasped for breath, shrieked, then lunged for the door.
Her departure was as spectacular as her grand entrance had been. She was gone as quickly as she had intruded into his room and into his life. Thank goodness.
Jonah chuckled in amusement. If he’d known that unintentionally exposing himself would have gotten rid of her so quickly he would have stood up earlier.
Dripping wet, he stared down at the small fortune curled in his fist. If handing him money was supposed to be a gesture of faith, he still wasn’t buying it. He was a man who did not trust easily. Those who did usually wound up dead and buried. For all he knew Maddie Garret was one hell of an actress, willing to do and say anything to ensure her protection and his cooperation. Even if it meant giving a melodramatic performance and leaving him holding what could very well be stolen money.
“Damn.” Jonah scowled. “And all I had asked of the first day of my recuperation was a nap, a bath and a meal that didn’t resemble trail rations.”
While it was true that finding sexual gratification was also on his agenda, he hadn’t expected to have a supposed wife barrel into his room. Not that he would mind a tumble with that disturbingly attractive female, but he’d be damned if he’d pay for it by being manipulated, betrayed and maybe murdered in his sleep. Maddie Garret, he predicted, would bring him nothing but trouble. Jonah had endured more than his fair share of it, thank you very much.
He hurriedly dried off, then pulled a clean set of clothes from his saddlebag. He rolled his dirty laundry around the bundles of money, crammed them in his leather pouch and stuffed it under the mattress.
For a few moments he contemplated the impulsive urge to turn his back on his profession, ride off to buy himself a few acres in an isolated area of Texas and avoid the complications of so-called civilization.
It was a tempting thought.
After a decade of battling cutthroats and inclement weather he was burned out and fed up with being a guardian angel for folks who wouldn’t give him the time of day if he weren’t saving their incompetent necks.
Jonah had volunteered to join the Texas Rangers for two reasons—one idealistic and one realistic. Given his mixed heritage, it wasn’t easy to find work, and the Rangers were anxious to recruit sharpshooting survivalists who had few obligations that tied them down. In addition, Jonah had been taught to respect the fearless battalions of Rangers who had become the epitome of law enforcement on the frontier.
It was said that Rangers could ride like Mexicans, track like Indians, shoot like mountain men and fight like the very devil. The Mexicans referred to them as Tejanos Diablos—Texas devils—and the Comanches held a grudging respect for them.
When Jonah was a young warrior of twelve his father had led him through some rugged terrain and told him to observe the impressive tactics of the Rangers. Jonah had watched and learned that day when outnumbered Rangers had pitted themselves against ruthless outlaws that preyed on Indians and whites alike. To his amazement, the courageous Rangers had won a decisive battle. The small battalion of hard-bitten, eagle-eyed crack shots had stared death in the face with fearless defiance and charged full steam ahead.
“Rangers don’t fight like white men,” Jonah’s father had said. “More like Comanches. They make dangerous enemies. Never forget that.”
The incident had made a strong and lasting impression on Jonah.
Jonah strapped on his holster, tucked a dagger in his boot—and one in his shirtsleeve—and wondered as he had before if his departed father would be pleased to know his son had become a Texas devil. For certain, his father would be relieved to know that Jonah had not been confined to the hated reservation, forced to depend on the army to feed and clothe him, and left with his pride in tatters.
Guilt slammed into him, as it did on too many occasions. He was free to choose his profession, while his oppressed people were left to the mercy of the government and the army.
Frustration and resentment put him in a sour mood. Jonah strode over to chug a drink of whiskey. He couldn’t help his vanquished people any more than he could change his mixed heritage. Life, he’d discovered, wasn’t a damn bit fair. But a man had to play the hand fate dealt him. Jonah had cheated death several times and counted himself lucky to be in one piece—more or less.
He stepped into the hall and locked the door behind him. If he’d thought to do that before he’d trudged wearily up the steps and collapsed in exhaustion, he could have avoided Maddie Garret’s unwanted intrusion. Now he was stuck with her money. He was certain he hadn’t seen the last of that animated and highly articulate female.
The answer was still no, he decided. Maddie could find herself another guardian and protector. Jonah inhaled a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he ambled down the hall. Maybe a decent meal would relieve his black mood. He’d be damned if he’d spend this hiatus sulking, wishing there was more to life than what he’d gotten. For sure, he was going to find a willing female who cared more about a few moments of pleasure than she did about the color of his skin. As long as the room was dark it didn’t matter who appeased a man or woman’s needs. Only that both walked away satisfied.
He set his mind on forgetting that the feisty Maddie Garret existed, but even as he crossed the street to enter the barbershop, a beguiling vision loomed large in his mind. He wondered where she was, wondered if she was concocting another fantastic tale of woe to feed some unsuspecting pigeon that might be lured in by her arresting beauty and her sharp intelligence.
She was probably devising a scheme to steal more money to add to the stash of cash she’d thrust at Jonah for safekeeping. If Maddie Garret turned out to be a shyster and con artist, he would derive tremendous pleasure in herding her to jail.
Furthermore, he didn’t approve of the way his body reacted to her, didn’t appreciate the immediate physical attraction. It made him feel vulnerable and defensive. She was a distraction of the worst sort. Jonah refused to get involved because he doubted she was telling him the whole truth—and nothing but.
The sooner she left town the happier Jonah would be.
Maddie crawled beneath the loose boards near the foundation of the livery stable, then sank down beside her satchel. Legs drawn up, she rested her elbows on her knees and covered her flushed face with her hands. Seeing Jonah Danhill rise from the tub like a mystical Greek god had shattered her composure completely. She was certain the sight of his muscular body would be emblazoned on her mind for all eternity.
How could she ever gaze at him again without remembering the way he looked naked? But she had to confront him again, because she had left the ransom money in his care.
Inhaling a bracing breath, Maddie glanced around the shadowy confines of the livery. She suspected she wasn’t the first unfortunate soul who had taken refuge here.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since she had stepped down from the coach and dined at the crude stage station west of Fort Worth the previous afternoon. The meal had been inedible and the companionship lousy. The threat of those two men hovering around like vultures, waiting to separate her from her money, had kept her in a nervous state of constant alert.
Maddie marshaled her resolve by reminding herself that her fear and frustration were nothing compared to the frightening nightmare Christina was enduring. Her sister was all the family she had left in this world, and despite the disheartening obstacles in her path, Maddie vowed to stand strong.
Even while the noble thought blazed through her mind, she felt her body slump in exhaustion. She had been operating on raw nerves for days on end. It would have been so easy to throw up her hands in defeat and fall apart, right where she sat. But her concern for Christina refused to allow her to give up this crusade. Her sister was counting on her.
Hold your head up high, daughter, her father used to say. Garrets don’t mope around with their chins scraping their chests. No one promised life would be easy. You just keep placing one foot in front of the other and don’t let the troubles that come your way get you down.
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