Jenna Kernan - The Texas Ranger's Daughter

He glanced back at Laurie, motionless, her chin on her chest and her posture defeated. She’d stopped her sniffling, but her tears still tore into him worse than cat-claw thorns.

If there was any doubt in anyone’s mind about his suitability as a Texas Ranger, Boon’s actions had settled the matter. What he’d read as Laurie’s consent turned out to be only her inexperience. What he’d thought was a gift, a way to distract and comfort, ended up being neither. Paulette had told him this was what all women wanted. But then why did it make Laurie cry? She’d seemed to enjoy it at the time and it sickened him to think that he had taken advantage of her, when he’d only meant to give her pleasure.

Paulette, a new arrival to the Blue Belle, had taught him that this was how you gave a woman her release and that there was no danger of unwanted children this way. Then why was Laurie so grieved?

The truth settled heavy in his chest.

He’d taken advantage of a woman in his care, something he knew a Ranger would never do. He was no better than the animals on their trail, just another brutal outlaw who used women for sport. He thought of his mother and his shoulders sank another inch.

He glanced toward the sky again, certain this time that the stars had begun to vanish. Dawn was coming and with it the desert heat. Something rustled in the brush. Likely a porcupine or armadillo, he thought, continuing on. The cry from behind him brought him about in his saddle. Laurie gripped the saddle horn with both hands and was hauling herself back into the saddle seat.

He turned his mount.

“I fell asleep,” she admitted.

Boon nodded, reaching for her.

“What are you doing?”

He pulled her from the saddle and settled her in front of him.

“I’m awake now. No need to trouble yourself.”

“If you fall, you might bust something. You rest a bit.”

She wiggled her hips to settle before him and he gritted his teeth against the physical reaction of his body to hers. He’d not touch her again, he vowed. Laurie stilled, suddenly motionless as a rabbit before a fox.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

His first thought was Mexico, but he knew he couldn’t just ride off with her. That would be wrong. Then why did his mind fix on the notion like a feather caught in tar?

He wrapped one arm about her waist and nudged the horse to a fast walk.

“I’m bringing you home, Laurie.”

“You are?” Her voice echoed with astonishment. Could she not even conceive of someone like him doing the decent thing?

“That’s right.”

“To my father?”

He didn’t know her father or his connection to the captain.

“I suppose. I’m here on orders from the Texas Rangers under Captain John Bender. You heard of him?” He puffed up a little when he said it, proud to be associated with Bender, even if the association was only temporary. He wondered again if he could make it permanent. Maybe the captain would see, when he brought Laurie home safe, that he’d be a welcome addition to Bender’s division.

Laurie turned and stared up at him, her expression confused.

She clarified. “Captain John Bender, famous lawman, legendary Indian fighter, that John Bender?”

“The same.”

Boon lifted his chin a notch, hoping she was impressed.

“He sent you?”

Uncertainty flickered down low in his belly, but he nodded.

“I just said so.” Had she heard of him or not?

“ That John Bender is my father.”

Boon swayed, and had it not been for the saddle cantle behind him he’d have likely dropped over backward. He felt as if she’d punched him in the stomach, would have preferred it in fact. She still stared at him, half-turned in the saddle, one brow lifted in speculation.

“You didn’t know,” she said.

He shook his head in answer as the truth descended upon him like a cloud of locusts from a blue sky. She wasn’t Bender’s woman. This was his child and Boon had done things to Laurie to which a father would surely take offense. He’d made the captain’s daughter cry.

Boon’s little dream of joining the Rangers burst like a soap bubble in the sun, lost forever.

He’d never join that division of elite fighters, earn the respect of the captain or be anything other than what he was. Reality blinded him. Coats was right. Once a snake, always a snake.

If he was smart he’d drop her at the stage station and head in the opposite direction as fast as he could ride. If he were lucky he might make Mexico before the Rangers ran him to ground. Boon pulled to a halt and dismounted, dropping the reins and walking away from the horses. His stride was quick at first then slowed until he stood with both hands laced behind his neck, his elbows stretched wide as he looked to the heavens.

The captain’s words came back to him. I don’t care. I want her back.

His partner had told Bender it was a mistake. Now Boon understood what it was—it was him. He was the mistake. The captain hadn’t sent him because he was the best man for the job or even his first choice. Boon was his only choice and he hadn’t expected that the outlaw would treat his daughter honorably or he would have told him who Laurie was. Instead, the captain had kept it secret. Boon replayed the conversation he’d overheard in his mind. It all made sense now. Bender wanted his daughter back so badly he had been willing to do anything, even allow a known outlaw to defile his little girl. The captain loved Laurie enough to let it happen just to get her back alive.

The realization hit him right in the gut. Bender didn’t trust him. He’d sent Boon because he’d had no other choice.

Boon folded at the middle as his empty stomach pitched.

Bands of pink and orange light reached across the eastern sky. Morning had found them, still in the box canyon.

Laurie watched her rescuer with cautious eyes. Boon looked like a prisoner giving himself up and now he looked as if he were going to be sick.

His horse did not know what to make of this abandonment and so the chestnut gelding glanced toward Laurie, showing her the small white stripe down his face, and then took a few steps in Boon’s direction, snorting loudly. This caused Laurie’s bay to prick its ears, regarding the man who stood with his back to them all.

He did not turn, but remained still as the stone walls while the first rays of light painted the canyon rim a brilliant red.

Laurie felt as wrung out as damp laundry from her ordeal, and now this man, her rescuer, had made her feel things she did not know were possible. Surely what they had done must be sinful and wrong. It hurt to know that he had seen through her like glass. Had her fancy dresses and proper bonnets only made her a joke to everyone back in Fort Worth?

Boon seemed befuddled that she was the daughter of John Bender. His reaction worried her. Now that he knew, would he leave her?

“Boon?” she said, trying to keep the fear from creeping into her voice.

She untied the rope joining their horses and then glanced back to Boon.

He removed his gray felt hat and threw it with great force toward the ground. When it landed before him, he kicked it. His hair was not brown, she could see now in the breaking dawn that his highlights were very definitely a honey-blond and shaggy.

As she watched, his shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh. He retrieved his hat and dusted it off before returning it to his head.

He spun on her, turning like a gunslinger about to draw, but all he aimed at her was his cold stare.

“Your father?” he asked, the incredulity of his voice now settling to dismay.

She nodded.

“You’d think he would have mentioned that.” Boon returned to collect the reins of the gelding. “Might as well get you down. Have to switch horses anyway.”