Carol Finch Read online

  Roarke breathed a relieved sigh when he noticed the café that sat across the dirt street. At least his evening meal might offer something besides the mushy beans and stale hoecakes he’d eaten at the last stop.

  Thank God for small favors, he thought as he hiked across the street.

  According to the driver, the stage would make a two-hour layover to repair a broken spring on the undercarriage of the coach. Just what he didn’t need, another infuriating delay.

  Restless and irritable, he breezed into the restaurant and parked himself in a chair. It was then that he remembered he didn’t have any money to pay for his meal. The thought didn’t set well with him. Roarke had begun his life back East as a poor farmer’s son. He had sworn thirty years ago that he would never again be without the funds that could provide the luxuries and influence that his own father had spent his entire life trying to achieve.

  Now here Roarke was, right back where he had started. And that didn’t set well with him.

  “You missed all the excitement, señor,” the young Mexican waitress remarked as she ambled over to his table.

  “I’ve had more than enough excitement this week already,” he muttered. “The stage holdup left me penniless.”

  The woman smiled, then appraised his clothing. “I’m sure my papa will agree to trade your fine jacket for a meal. Money is not always the medium of exchange in these parts, you know.”

  Scowling at the fact that he had to give the coat off his back to get a meal, Roarke shrugged out of the expensive tailor-made garment and thrust it at the waitress. “Bring me whatever this will buy,” he said deflatedly.

  When the waitress returned with a glass of wine Roarke decided things were looking up. He could enjoy wine rather than the rotgut whiskey the other passengers were probably gulping down at the moment.

  “At least your trek to the fort should be free of trouble by the time you are back on the road,” the waitress said conversationally. “There is a Ranger battalion in the area and they are hot on the heels of the bandoleros that kidnapped two white women this morning.”

  His arm stalled in midair, his glass a few inches from his lips. “Two women?” he chirped. Damnation, the waitress couldn’t possibly be referring to his daughters, could she? That’s all he needed on top of everything else! “Two blond women?”

  The waitress nodded her dark head. “Sí, one is the wife of an army captain. The other is her sister. They were taken hostage this morning. The ransom demanded that the Rangers release part of the gang that was locked in jail.”

  Roarke’s arm jerked uncontrollably, splattering wine down the front of his shirt.

  The waitress spun on her heels. “I’ll fetch a rag to blot your shirt, señor.”

  Roarke’s hand shook as he set down his glass. He was overjoyed to discover that Piper had somehow survived and had reunited with Penny. But stark fear and concern tormented him to no end. He didn’t want to contemplate the horrors his daughters might endure at the hands of ruthless outlaws.

  This was the last straw, Roarke vowed stormily. He wanted his daughters back alive—and he damn well better get them back alive or those outlaws would find their footsteps dogged by every private investigator, gunslinger, bounty hunter and law official in this state! He would make examples of every last one of those cutthroats. The bounty on their heads would be so astronomical that the thieves would turn on each other like a pack of wolves to collect the rewards.

  And curse those daredevil daughters of his for thrusting themselves into harm’s way by tramping around this lawless country. Neither of them should be here in the first place. They were Sullivans and a better life awaited them in East Texas. And by damn, Roarke was going to take them home where they belonged. This was one decree that his contrary daughters were not going to defy!

  Now, all he had to do was pray that the Rangers could rescue Piper and Penny from disaster. Then Roarke was going to stuff them in a stagecoach and head back to Galveston, whether they opposed the idea or not!

  Piper shrieked in frustration when the loop of a lariat settled around her throat. The tug of the rope burned against her neck and jerked her sideways. If her feet hadn’t been tied to the stirrups she would have cartwheeled to the ground to be dragged and trampled by the circling horses.

  She found herself staring at two dozen angry men. But at least all of them had taken after her and given up looking for Penny.

  Or perhaps the threat of inviting the outrage of the army had persuaded the outlaws to settle for one hostage. Whatever the case, all the bandits were accounted for and Penny had the chance to ride to safety.

  “You are trying my patience, bitch,” Roy growled as he trotted up beside her. “If we didn’t need a live hostage to lure in the Rangers I would shoot you where you sit.”

  Piper was led toward a lone cottonwood tree that stood beside the creek that bisected the lush green valley. Craggy stone ridges rose two hundred feet high on all three sides of the canyon. Momentarily distracted, she stared at the shiny slabs of stone that shimmered in the waning sunlight. It looked as if the creek was fed by an underground spring that trickled down the hillside.

  Her thoughts scattered abruptly when Roy slashed the ropes that bound her feet, then jerked her off the horse. Smirking in fiendish glee he tethered her to the tree.

  “When this showdown is over you will be our spoils of victory,” he said menacingly. “After the men and I use you for our pleasure I will take personal satisfaction in hearing you beg me to kill you.”

  If he was trying to terrorize her it wasn’t going to work, Piper promised herself. She raised her chin in defiance. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for that to happen. I will be cursing you for the beast you are with my dying breath.”

  “You will be singing a different tune by morning,” Sam smirked. “Torture is everything it’s cracked up to be.”

  “I suspect you’ll be dead by then,” Piper dared to say. “The Rangers will have sent you to hell where you belong.”

  Snarling, Sam backhanded her across the face. Her head slammed against the tree trunk, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out in pain. She enjoyed a small measure of vindication by spitting the blood from her split lip at him.

  Swearing profusely, he bounded onto his horse and reined away, signaling for the brigands to follow him.

  Piper watched in dismay as the bandits took strategic positions behind the boulders on all three sides of the canyon. Within a few minutes it was difficult to tell where the snipers were waiting. She couldn’t imagine how Quinn and a dozen Rangers were going to overcome these odds. The valley itself was as much a fortress as Dead Man’s Canyon.

  A curse tumbled from her swollen lips when she saw five riders enter the mouth of the canyon an hour later. She recognized the horses, sombreros and serapes and realized that the Rangers had been forced to release the Mexicans from jail. Muttering, she watched the Mexicans scatter to take their positions on the rugged hillsides for the impending ambush.

  The odds against the Rangers had just increased, Piper thought. She would never forgive herself if Quinn and his battalion came to harm because of her.

  Two hours later Piper heard a strange rumble in the distance. She glanced toward the storm clouds that had piled up on the northwestern horizon, but the ominous sound didn’t seem to be coming from that direction.

  Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw a herd of at least a hundred horses thundering into the valley in a fog of dust. Gunfire erupted from behind the massive slabs of stones and boulders that surrounded her.

  Piper smiled triumphantly when she realized Quinn had cleverly outsmarted the desperadoes. The Rangers hadn’t come charging into the valley of death to risk being picked off like ducks on a pond by the bushwhackers. This had to be Quinn’s ingenious idea, she guessed. He had devised a way to counter the odds.

  While bullets zinged around her, ricocheting off pebbles and splattering the water in the stream, Piper stared at the approa
ching herd. Her jaw dropped open when she noticed three men hanging off the sides of their saddleless horses. Their clothing matched the color of the buckskin horses they were holding on to. Quinn and the Comanche warriors were plastered so closely to their galloping steeds that it was impossible for the desperadoes to get a clear shot while the rest of the herd raced beside them, stirring up a cloud of dust.

  The wild-eyed herd circled the tree and splashed through the creek. Thoroughly impressed by the tactic, Piper smiled when Quinn dropped to the ground beside her, his dagger clamped in his teeth. In less than a minute he had cut her loose, while Red Hawk and Spotted Deer kept the moving barricade churning around them.

  “Who hit you?” Quinn growled when he noticed her bloody lip. His forefinger brushed lightly against the rope burns on her throat and he gnashed his teeth. “Who did this to you, Piper?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said as she watched the circling horses. “How are we going to get out of here?”

  “It matters to me. Who…hit…you?”

  “Sam and his brother, Roy, but how—?”

  Her words died abruptly when Quinn grabbed the bullwhip that hung diagonally across his chest. With an effortless snap of his wrist, the whip curled around one of the horses’ necks. He gave a tug and the winded steed skidded to a halt.

  “Quinn, there’s something I need to tell you,” Piper hollered over the whine of bullets and thundering hooves.

  “Save it until later. We’re getting the hell out of here while the getting is good.”

  Hooking his arm around Piper’s waist, he tossed her on the sidestepping horse. An instant later he was sitting behind her. He shoved her forward until she was draped over the mount like a saddle blanket. Her breath came out in a whoosh when he collapsed upon her and shouted something in Comanche.

  Piper held on for dear life as the horse plunged back into the circling herd. With Quinn’s muscular body plastered over hers, protecting her from gunfire, he gouged the steed into its fastest clip. Piper frowned in confusion when she heard unexpected explosions erupting on the hillsides.

  “Commander Butler and four other Rangers posed as the released Mexican bandits,” Quinn shouted over the clatter of hooves. “The unit from Van Horn provided the dynamite for the fireworks. The explosions are the signal for my battalion to advance from over the rise of the mountain to bear down on the bushwhackers. Some of the soldiers arrived back at the fort in time to bring up the herd and join forces with us so we wouldn’t be outnumbered.”

  Piper craned her neck to see dozens of riders, armed with rifles and explosives, firing down at the bandits who suddenly found themselves trapped on the wrong side of the massive slabs of rock and boulders.

  She smiled in satisfaction, then winced when the cut on her lip began to sting. “Remind me never to try to outsmart you, Callahan. If these desperadoes can’t get it done, I doubt I can, either.”

  Quinn held on to Piper as the herd picked up speed and surged toward the mouth of the canyon, while explosions and gunfire echoed around them. Now that she was safe and sound, and huddled protectively beneath him, Quinn heaved an enormous sigh of relief.

  Of course, it went without saying that he was furious with her for luring the bandits after her so her sister could escape unscathed. Piper was not supposed to scare him half to death by putting her life on the line like that. Plus, he would dearly like to strangle her for whatever defiant remark she had made that had resulted in Sam Morrell’s vicious retaliation.

  But at least she was alive and still in one piece. He was grateful for that.

  Quinn jerked on the bullwhip that he had looped around the horse’s neck to slow the pace as they rounded the canyon wall. There were several soldiers waiting to bring the herd to a halt. When Red Hawk and Spotted Deer dropped to the ground, Quinn pulled his mount to a stop so he could hand Piper down to them.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he drew his feet beneath him to launch himself onto the saddle horse Captain Duncan had waiting for him.

  “Riding back in to settle a score,” he said before he charged off in the direction he had come.

  “Wait! I want to tell you—”

  Quinn couldn’t hear her over the rumbling explosions and spitting gunfire. Whatever she thought she needed to say would have to wait.

  Hearing the clatter of hooves behind him, Quinn twisted in the saddle to see the Comanche warriors mounted on army horses. “What are you doing here? Stay with Piper.”

  Red Hawk shook his dark head. “She is in good hands. This is as much our fight as it is yours. We want the men who trampled Comanche burial ground. We also want revenge against the men who staked out your wife and split her lip.”

  Just what was there about Piper that demanded a man’s allegiance? Quinn asked himself as he approached the battlegrounds on the rocky hillside. He didn’t have time to figure it out at the moment, but nonetheless he was driven to avenge her mistreatment and retaliate for Taylor Briggs’s senseless death.

  And by damn, when he got through with Sam and Roy Morrell they were going to be dreadfully sorry they had incited his fury.

  Piper found herself reunited and immediately enveloped in her brother-in-law’s fierce hug and he didn’t release her for a long moment. When he did, he smiled appreciatively at her. Piper studied his dark eyes, dark hair, bronzed skin and realized she and Penny had a weakness for ruggedly handsome men.

  “You spared Penny from harm,” Matt Duncan murmured. “For that, you have my eternal gratitude.”

  “Where is she?” Piper glanced around his broad shoulders.

  “I made her lie down under the nearest tree,” he replied, then grimaced. “Damn near had to tie her up to keep her there. She insisted on being on hand when Callahan went in after you.”

  Piper stared in the direction he pointed, then trotted over to join her sister. When Penny came to her knees and braced herself against the tree trunk Piper flung up her hand. “Don’t get up. You are under strict orders to rest after your ordeal.”

  Penny pulled a face. “I swear Matthew has become so protective that I can’t even hiccup without provoking his concern. Seven more months of this and he will drive me crazy.” Her gaze narrowed in concern when she noticed the dried blood caked on Piper’s lip. “What did they do to you?”

  Piper sank down cross-legged and smiled reassuringly. “It’s nothing. It was my fault, actually. I never have learned when to keep my trap shut.”

  Penny grinned mischievously. “Definitely a Sullivan family trait. I can’t keep my trap shut, either.” Her smile faded as she clutched Piper’s hand. “I can never repay you for protecting my unborn child and me. If you hadn’t led those scoundrels on a merry chase through the valley I wouldn’t have been able to escape over the ridge.” Tears clouded her blue eyes. “Whatever you want or need, Pi, just ask and I will see it done.”

  Piper chuckled. What she wanted and needed was for Quinn to fall hopelessly, completely, madly in love with her. She doubted her sister could grant her fondest wish.

  A week ago, gaining her independence had been foremost on her mind. Now, her freedom seemed a hollow victory because she had lost her heart.

  The clatter of an approaching coach caught Piper’s attention. She glanced up to see a silver-blond head appear from the window. “What miserable timing,” she mumbled. “Brace yourself, Penny. Papa has arrived.”

  “Halt!” Roarke bellowed at the driver.

  In the gathering darkness Piper and Penny stared apprehensively at each other as their father barreled down the steps even before the coach had rolled to a complete stop. His silver-blond hair glinted in the waning light and his pale blue eyes widened in concern.

  “My God!” Roarke howled as he scurried over to his grimy-faced daughters. “Are you two all right?”

  “We’re fine,” Piper insisted. “Nice to see you again, Papa.”

  Roarke’s face puckered in irritation as he thrust back his shoulders and crossed his muscular arms in a
gesture of disappointment, and then he let out a snort. “Now do you see why I wanted the two of you to stay home where you belong? You came to this godforsaken wilderness and look what happened. You nearly got yourselves killed—or worse!”

  His broad chest swelled as he sucked in a deep breath, then ranted on. “I have been through sheer hell just getting here. Now that I’m here I damn well intend to—”

  “Sir,” the driver interrupted. “We’re several hours behind schedule. Are you climbing aboard or not?”

  Roarke wheeled around to take command of the situation. “Yes, I am and so are my daughters. You two—” He made a stabbing gesture toward two men seated beside the coach windows. “Climb atop the stage and give your seats to my daughters.”

  Piper and Penny found themselves hoisted to their feet and bustled toward the coach. Roarke crammed them inside, forcing the other passengers to huddle together.

  “This is no place for sophisticated ladies,” Roarke lectured before he motioned for the driver to head to the fort. “Stage holdups, kidnappings, renegade Indians running loose and only God knows what else. The two of you are definitely coming back to Galveston with me and I will hear no argument. Have I made myself clear?”

  Piper rolled her eyes at her father’s take-command attitude, then leaned toward Penny. “Are you going to tell him that we aren’t leaving or shall I do the honors?”

  Penny stared at Roarke who had crossed his arms over his chest, thrust out his chin and flattened his mouth into a familiar expression that invited no argument. “I suggest that we gang up on him,” she recommended confidentially. “Maybe we should give him the night to rest, recuperate and calm down. He looks too unapproachable at the moment. I think we should break the news to him tomorrow.”

  Piper studied her stiff-necked father pensively. “I don’t think it’s going to matter,” she murmured. “He isn’t going to take the news well whether it’s now or later.”