The Texas Ranger's Daughter

She rose, but Cal shoved her to the ground. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Laurie sank in the dust, leaning back against the log, and watched the men. Some hung back, remaining in their places. Others stood casually, as if just preparing to take a stroll.

Boon stepped into the firelight, the first to stake a claim.

“Me,” he said, lowering his chin in a challenge.

The others glanced from one to the next, but no one stepped forward. Laurie began to tremble, her eyes darting from one to another, searching desperately for escape and finding none.

Larson finally moved from the group. He was older, bigger and outweighed the younger man by fifty pounds. But he was a coward inside; Laurie knew it from the exchange she’d seen with Hammer. Cowards didn’t fight unless they were certain they could win. Cowards made the best bullies and suddenly she could not draw breath. What if it were Larson? She’d rather die, but Hammer had not given her that option.

He meant to have his pound of flesh.

She knew Larson was fully capable of breaking a man’s jaw with one punch and she wondered why Boon looked so lackadaisical. The others moved to form a ring, grinning and shouting, perhaps hoping that the fight would take out one or both of them, leaving an open field. Cal rose to gain a better vantage point, leaving her unattended, just outside the ring of cheering men.

Larson lifted his fists. “Still time to back down.”

Boon shook his head.

Laurie’s stomach tightened. Help was not coming. She needed to do for herself or die in the attempt. She tried to think what a Ranger would do and wondered if she might sneak away in the melee. But at that moment, George Hammer sat beside her, drawing his gun and then crossing his arms so the pistol pointed casually at her.

“You just sit back down now and watch the show. You’ll be the show soon enough. I hope it’s Larson. He’s big and mean as a bull. Like him to be your first. But you’ll take them all, some more than once. By the time the sun’s up, you’ll be begging me for this bullet.” He lifted the barrel of his gun. “My, your daddy will be grieved.”

His smile was a bitter combination of warm satisfaction and icy vengeance. Laurie struggled not to vomit as terror gripped her belly.

The men circled each other. She could not draw her eyes from them, one slender, muscular and quick, one slow, beefy and enormous. Who would be the first to rape her?

Chapter Two

Laurie tried to draw up her knees to her chest, but her corset and bustle prevented her, so she inclined to the side, legs tucked under her skirt with one elbow resting on the log behind her as she watched. Time seemed to slow as Larson swung a bone-crushing fist at Boon’s head and missed. Boon, smaller and faster, ducked, then landed a blow to Larson’s ribs before spinning away as the older man bellowed. Another swing and another miss. This time Boon used his elbow to strike the back of Larson’s head.

Both men were dirty fighters, but Boon was faster and stayed out of the man’s reach. If Larson got his hands on him, Laurie felt certain Boon would be finished. The bigger man made a grab for his opponent and Boon used the heel of his hand against his rival’s nose. The crunch made Laurie gag. His broken nose gushed blood down his indigo denim shirt and greasy brown vest. A moment later, Larson’s left eye swelled shut and the big man began to stagger. He drew his gun. The men ceased cheering and dived for cover at the exact moment Boon lunged at Larson’s legs, using his body like a rolling barrel to take the man down.

Laurie didn’t know when it happened but she found herself rooting for Boon, clearly the underdog. What was the matter with her? She should hope they all killed each other and left her in peace.

Boon sprang to his feet and used his boot heel to crush Larson’s shooting hand, still clutching the pistol. The downed man howled like a feral animal as his fingers crunched. Boon retrieved the gun from the ground.

He aimed it at Larson. The man stopped screaming and cradled his mangled hand to his chest. Boon cocked the trigger.

The clearing now fell so silent, Laurie could hear the burning logs crackle and pop in the fire.

George Hammer rose and stepped forward. The men parted as he approached. He glanced coldly at Larson, lying like a defeated gladiator in the ring. Laurie recalled this was his pick and shivered. Hammer turned his head and narrowed his eyes on Boon. The younger outlaw was so still, he seemed carved of marble, but he still aimed the gun at Larson’s big ugly bleeding nose.

Boon did not look to their leader, but seemed to be waiting for something.

“Finish him,” growled Hammer.

There was no hesitation. Boon squeezed the trigger. The shot exploded as Laurie screamed. Larson twitched as the bullet passed through his forehead and then he went still, his feet lolling in opposite directions as his injured hand slipped to the ground.

Her cry and the pistol shot rang in her ears as her mind tried to reconcile such savagery.

Hammer clapped Boon on the shoulder. Boon lowered Larson’s smoking pistol.

“Glad to have you back, Boon.” He turned toward the men. “Larson pulled his pistols. If Boon hadn’t shot him, I woulda.”

Boon slid Larson’s gun behind the buckle of his belt. “Who’s next?”

The men shifted restlessly. Larson was the biggest among them and Boon had taken him down without suffering a scratch. The others were right to take his guns, but even without them, he’d bested their top man.

Laurie glanced about the rough-looking men. They eyed her with lust, but none stepped out to face Boon. Laurie’s stomach rolled as she realized they didn’t have to. Boon had not won her. He’d just won her first. If they were patient they’d still have their turn. No need to get shot over a woman.

Hammer wrapped an arm about Boon’s shoulder. “He’s one of us, boys.”

Was he? Laurie eyed the young man. Despite the dust and stubble there was something about him that was different than the others, but perhaps this was only her mind grasping for any slim thread of hope. Then she remembered the slap and how Boon had deflected it, protecting her from harm. She watched Boon, trying to see inside his soul.

Hammer went on, as if presenting him to a family gathering, the prodigal son, returning to the flock of thieves.

“I said so the first time I laid eyes on you. Bad Boon, one of us again. Welcome home, son.”

The men nodded their approval, accepting the will of their leader, all except Larson, of course. Laurie ventured a glance at the murdered man and was immediately sorry as her stomach heaved.

“Thanks.” Boon’s eyes narrowed and swept the gang, pausing to meet each man’s cold stare. “Good to be back.”

Hammer slapped him on the shoulder. “She’s all yours. Have at her.”

Boon didn’t move.

“Well?” said Hammer.

“Not in front of them.” He pointed at the others.

Hammer scowled. “What? You too shy to let them see your pecker?”

Boon said nothing.

“Maybe I’ll just give her to Cal.”

“I won.”

Hammer glared. Boon didn’t blink. Laurie found she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Their leader might just as soon shoot the newest member of his group as back down. The men stood watchful, waiting for the drama to play out.

Hammer broke into a grin and then gave a laugh. “All right then, boy. Drag her off in the dark and give her a poke, but don’t take too long, else I’ll send the boys for their turn.”

Boon came for her then, his gaze cold and dead, walking fast as if this were some burden he did not savor. She made a poor attempt at evasion and he snatched her up, dragging her to her feet as the others laughed and jeered.

She expected to see lust in his eyes, but instead he captured her gaze with one laced with what looked like regret. Laurie felt unreasonable hope welling again. What was wrong with her? He was an outlaw. She’d just watched him kill a man. To save her, echoed her mind. Was that the reason?

Boon laced his fingers into her long hair, now a tangled mess of pins and tendrils, what remained of the neat bun she had fashioned at her nape yesterday morning.