Читать книгу Give Me A Texas Ranger - Jodi Thomas - Страница 12

McCord rode for half the night before he stopped to water his horse. The hardest thing he’d ever done was leave Anna, but deep down he knew leaving her was the only way he’d keep her alive.

The gambler was hunting them both, and McCord knew men like Frank Sanders would come after him first. He’d consider the woman easy pickings, not near the challenge a Ranger would be to kill. He’d want McCord out of the way so he could take his time with the woman. McCord doubted Sanders or Thorn had put the pieces together and figured out that the letter they wanted so desperately to stop from being delivered had been with a Ranger, and not in the mailbag on the stage.

McCord had to draw Frank Sanders away from Anna, and he had a mission he had to finish. If he had a choice, he’d meet the outlaws out in the open so Anna wouldn’t be in danger. Then, when they were dead or in jail, he’d ride back and linger for a week in that funny little tent inside a building.

It was almost dawn, but he could still feel her against him. The woman had climbed into his blood and was pumping through every part of his body. He didn’t want to marry her and have kids and settle down. He wanted to make love to her until they both died of hunger. He wanted to touch her all night long and wake her again and again with passion. He wanted to be so deep inside her he stepped out of this world.

McCord was so lost in his thoughts he almost missed the glint of sunlight off a rifle. The bullet came within a foot of his head as he dove off his horse.

He rolled into the brush, both guns ready and waiting.

Nothing.

An hour passed. Not a sound. Frank Sanders was playing with him. The idea that McCord had escaped and taken another witness with him must have infuriated the gambler. Thorn and Sanders planned to pay him back by making him sweat awhile before they killed him. McCord wondered if the horse he’d heard riding past while he and Anna hid in the rocks that first night had been ridden by Frank. After he killed the others at the station, the gambler might have raced after them, knowing he’d be in real trouble if he failed Thorn by not finding the letter and by letting witnesses live.

McCord burrowed in and waited out the day, determined not to give the gambler any chance to fire again.

At dusk, he climbed on his horse and rode out before even the stars offered light. He’d have to be more careful, but when his job was done, he would track the gambler down.

By sunup McCord and his horse were safely away, miles to the north of where he’d been shot at. The Ranger needed a few hours’ sleep and then he had to think. The letter in his boot was due by the end of the week to an Indian agent deep in the territory. He could make the ride in two days on a good horse. The question was, did he deliver it first, then find Frank, or try to find the gambler first, then burn leather to make it to the agent in time?

Only one answer came to mind. The outlaw could wait a few days to be arrested; the letter had to be delivered. Hundreds of lives might be saved if the agent could put the governor’s plan into action.

Splashing across the Cimarron River, he entered the rolling hills of Indian Territory. The outlaws wouldn’t follow him this far. Once he was out of Thorn and his mens’ rifle range, he could ride hard toward Medicine Lodge on the Salt Fork, where the agent was reportedly staying.

Anna was safe at the camp, surrounded by a hundred armed men, and with luck he’d be back in time to catch Thorn’s whole gang before they caused any more harm.