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  “Knowing how you feel about your father, Miss Hollis, I take that as the highest compliment you could pay me. On this journey, we’re partners, equals. We share everything and anything. Right?”

  “I couldn’t ask for a more perfect arrangement,” she replied.

  “Nor could I,” Marsh retorted, winking at her.

  Marsh eyed her garments. She was dressed in a vest and skirt of material and color that matched the jeans he was wearing—a sturdy, durable, and comfortable outfit for the trail. The skirt was full and it flowed over the tops of her brown boots, a style which made mounting and riding easy and modest. She wore a red shirt beneath the vest, its shade flattering to her golden skin. Her hair, bound today with a red ribbon, reminded him of a field of ripened wheat, and it seemed to call out to him to wander through it with his fingers.

  “Do you approve of my taste, Mr. Logan?” she asked merrily.

  “I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anything about you that isn’t flawless. Makes a man nervous to be around such perfection.”

  Randee shook her head and laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve made your first mistake, Mr. Logan. I can assure you, I have many flaws.”

  “Such as?” he prompted, his blue gaze mischievous.

  “I think I’ll leave it up to you to discover them. That way, if you miss a few, then you’ll think I’m not so terrible after all.”

  “A wise woman, or a cunningly deceitful one— I wonder which,” he murmured. A wicked grin eased over his face and he challenged, “Shall we see who outguesses the other first? A sporting game to enliven our spirits and while away the hours when we’re not at work.”

  Randee’s defensive reply was, “Speaking of work, shouldn’t we get to it? As we.play, more people could be dying.”

  The man in the snug blue shirt and dark jeans walked forward. He looked down into her expressive eyes and jested, “Afraid you’ll lose if you accept my challenge, or are you refusing because of Brody Wade?”

  Randee stared him in the eye and countered, “I’m refusing because neither of us can afford such a distraction while our lives are in danger. Challenge me again after our victory, and I’ll accept.”

  Marsh teased the backs of his fingers over her flushed cheek, then across her lips. He felt her tremble and read enormous desire for him within her gaze and mood. Yet, she was pulling back from him. Perhaps because it was considered a woman’s duty to protect her chastity and to keep a tempting male at arm’s length—until he was ready or willing to put a wedding band before carnal pleasures. Even so, he murmured seductively, “Maybe I’ll do just that, Miss Hollis.”

  “And maybe you won’t,” but I hope you will, locking her gaze to his and astonishing him with her unexpected reply following her retreat.

  Chapter Six

  Marsh scolded himself for doing just what he vowed he wouldn’t do last night, which, was to entice Miss Randee Hollis and lead her on a merry chase. Chances were that he wouldn’t survive this perilous mission in which he was outnumbered thirty to one. But he had to carry it out for peace of mind. As for Randee, once her novel quests for revenge and adventure were sated one way or another, she’d return home to settle down— and he wasn’t ready or willing to change his lifestyle any time soon. He couldn’t offer her anything serious or permanent, so he shouldn’t raise her hopes with reckless temptations. Nor should he falsely and rashly encourage her to pursue him. The last thing he needed was to have a love-smitten girl hot on his trail. If only she weren’t so damned compelling and unique! If only she were older and more experienced in matters of men and sensual pleasures! If only she didn’t want and need what he was probably unable to give! If only …

  To get past the awkward and unsettling moment, he chuckled and playfully winced before agreeing, “You’re right, Miss Hollis. Carefree men like me scare off real easy around proper ladies like you who demand all or nothing. Since I don’t want my talented hand or my handsome head chopped off for misbehaving with my boss lady, I’ll stop playing mischievous games with you.”

  Without appearing shocked or angered, Randee instantly came back with, “And women like me are intimidated by disarming rogues like you who want all for nothing; so that makes us even, Mr. Logan. No silly games, just serious business. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve learned about the Epson Gang while you’ve been tracking them? I’d also like to know why Texas lawmen aren’t doing anything about this grave problem. It’s been over a year and numerous raids.”

  Marsh noticed that she didn’t clarify what kind of woman she considered herself, or reveal what she expected from a man. “I’ll explain what I know about the “law first. Ever since the Texas Rangers were dissolved after the war and the Federal Government refused to allow Southern states to have local authorities, we’ve depended on the Army and military control for protection and law enforcement. Things weren’t too bad for us until Davis became governor two years back. That Republican carpetbagger wanted power and he knew how to get it; he created the State Police. Since they came into control in ‘70, it’s been crazy and dangerous here. They’ve been accused of official murder, legal theft, and fierce oppression of Confederate families. Those socalled lawmen are full of flaws and they make lots of errors. I doubt they’ll be in power much longer, not after President Grant learns what’s happening, and he will. Crimes like theirs can’t be kept quiet forever.”

  Marsh knew that Grant was being well-informed through secret reports from him. As he traveled around, U.S. Special Agent Marsh Logan recorded the charges and crimes of the State Police’s often ruthless force. As soon as the President untangled some of his seriously pressing problems in Washington and around the country, he would find a way to liberate Texas from the grasps of Governor Davis and his State Police. Until then, Marsh was assigned to handle as many problems as he could, without exposing himself to Davis, the police, the Army, or to any local lawmen. Once his identity as a President’s special agent was unmasked, his life and missions would be in jeopardy. Only through secrecy could he carry out good and thorough investigations.

  Marsh sipped coffee as his mind wandered for a short time. He was glad when, knowing he wasn’t finished, she didn’t interrupt. “As for the Army, which is supposed to be protecting the frontier and its settlers, they aren’t doing much better these days.” He promptly qualified that statement. “That may be too harsh a judgment. They have their hands full with renegade Kiowas and Comanches, especially since Chief Satanta broke from the reservation and is riding free again.” His blue eyes danced with amusement as he chuckled and told her, “I bet Phil Sheridan’s face is as red as raw meat about now. Not too long ago, he reported that all Indians had been subdued and were living quietly on reservations beyond the Red River. North of us, we have old Custer, who’s keeping Indians on the run to reduce them to povertystricken, spiritless people who’ll sit back and depend on the whites for meager handouts. After that massacre at Washita, he cowed lots of them, but inspired others— like Satanta and Quanah Parker—to bolder deeds. I’m willing to bet my reward that we haven’t seen the last of either chief.”

  “Are those tribes raiding in this area?” she asked worriedly. If so, it could complicate or halt their task.

  “Nope, they’re mainly working to the north and west of Texas. It’s a shame they aren’t around to take on the Epson Gang.”

  “You sound as if you like them and disapprove of their treatment.”

  “They were great leaders, good warriors who were only protecting their lands and people. I respect them, and I think they got raw deals. What good are reservations on barren lands and broken promises? The whites wanted the buffalo and the Indians’ lands. We were stronger, so we took them by force. Then we expected the Indians to calmly accept any peace terms that we offered them. I don’t blame them for rebelling. But as far as I know, they won’t give us any trouble in this area. We can’t expect help from the State Police or the Army, and local lawmen don’t have enough men to give chase. We’re on our
own, Randee. Let’s get busy on our map and plans. After that, I’ll give you lessons with those new weapons before we ride to Jacksboro and Fort Richardson. We’ll see if we can pick up any recent information, then head out to check on raid sites.”

  Randee waited while he retrieved a map from his. saddlebag. He spread it out before them and motioned her closer.

  “I’ve recorded the locations of the raids. I know about so far. I’ve numbered them in order, dated them, and marked the miles between each raid. This way, we can tell how far and fast they move, and see which areas they hit repeatedly. Maybe we’ll detect that pattern you mentioned, which could lead us to their hide-out area, or get us one step ahead of them for a change. After talking with you in Wadesville, I realized we think much alike, so that’ll make working together easier. You don’t have to worry about me getting stubborn or defensive just because you’re a woman with superior skills and brains. A good partner is a good partner, be it male or female. I won’t try to boss you, so you can relax and speak your mind any time.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Marsh. We aren’t in a competition; we’re a team facing a big and deadly obstacle. We have to respect each other and get along for this partnership to. work. I admire you and respect you, and I hope you’ll soon feel the same way about me.” Randee studied the map and notations. He had done a lot of work, clever work, and she was impressed. She suggested, “What about if you include what time and how the raids occurred? That will let us know when and how they strike. It could provide useful clues.”

  “You’re right again, partner,” he sincerely complimented her.

  “Do you know anything about Quantrill’s Raiders?” she asked.

  He glanced at her quizzically. “Yes, why?”

  “I’m from Kansas, remember? These raids are similar to those. I was wondering if perhaps some of his ex -members are in this band. They did terrible things in Lawrence and Baxter Springs, just like this gang is doing here. They slaughtered people of all ages and both sexes. They tortured, burned, raped, and stole. They appeared nearly always at dawn or dusk, struck fast and deadly, then vanished. It could be coincidental or just pure evil in similar men.”

  “You may have something there, Randee, but how could we find out who was in that band and who’s still alive? You didn’t happen to see any of Quantrill’s Raiders at work, did you?”

  “No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the rustlers who killed my father had ridden with that vicious beast and are raiding here now.”

  “Is that why you want to pursue them?”

  “No, I only realized the similarities recently and thought I should mention them to you. We must consider every possibility.”

  Marsh met her gaze and said, “It might be helpful if we can learn more about those raids and men. I’ll give it more thought.”

  She liked the easy way he took her advice and suggestions. Few men would be so receptive, so self-confident as to not feel threatened or annoyed by a woman’s knowledge and skills. Few men would allow a woman to be an equal in a relationship, even if Marsh had said otherwise. As her father used to tease, “The doing and the saying of a thing aren’t always the same.” Randee relaxed even more with him. “What about witnesses, Marsh? Are you certain there aren’t any? Maybe they’re just too scared to come forward because they know the law can’t protect them. I mean, it seems impossible that somebody somewhere hasn’t seen something—if only a large band of riders.”

  “That’s a good question to ask during our investigation. We’ll list anyone unusual who’s around before and after each attack. We might come up with a frequent name or names. You can see by the map that the raids are in this oblong-shaped area.” His finger circled the location to which he was referring. “Every raid I know about took place between Fort Worth to one hundred and ten miles westward and a hundred-fifty-mile northto-south span westward of Fort Worth. Here’s my parents’ ranch near Jacksboro and the Carson Ranch southwest of Fort Worth. Looks like yours is about halfway between here and Hillsboro. We’ll need to check out this entire area and record all new raids. If that gang isn’t spreading out, we’ll know there’s a good reason.”

  Randee noticed that Marsh said “my parents’ ranch,” not “my ranch,” and “between here and Hillsboro,” rather than “between my land and Hillsboro.” Recalling his earlier words about a single heir who wouldn’t sell out, she wondered why, but didn’t ask. As with her, the’re must be a terrible reason why Marsh had left home and couldn’t return, and another grave reason why he kept his motive a secret.

  Marsh informed her, “From reports I’ve gathered, the Epson Gang’s size is between twenty-five and thirty strong, a real challenge.”

  Randee nodded awareness as she said, “But we have Good and Justice on our side. We’ll win, Marsh; we must.”

  “Before this is over, Good and Justice might not be sufficient powers for our survival.”

  “Even if we only punish a few of them, it’ll be worth the risk.”

  He countered, “Even if they hire more men as soon as we’re dead?”

  Randee looked distressed at that thought: To die in vain. A reality came to mind. “If those we slay are the ones who killed our loved ones, then, yes, it’ll be worth our lives. If they aren’t, they’ve harmed other innocent people and we’ve claimed justice for them. We can always hope that someone will eventually do the same for us. I’m certain there’s a dark reason why somebody wants this large area. All we have to do is discover who and why; then our task is half over.”

  “Let’s get moving, woman. I want you to show me how fast you can mount and ride off, then dismount over there as quickly as possible and take cover behind that tree. Take off,” he told her.

  “You want this test with or without a saddle?” she inquired.

  His brow lifted inquisitively. “You can ride bareback? What happens if that chestnut gallops away after you hop off her back? You haven’t been working with her very long.”

  For an answer, Randee hurried to the reddish-brown mare, leapt on her bare back, and rode swiftly and agilely to the tree. She jumped off the other side and darted behind the designated hiding place. After a moment, she showed herself and called to Rojo. The animal responded instantly, and Randee returned to where Marsh was standing. He was grinning appreciatively.

  “Ready for the next test or lesson,” she said, careful not to sound cocky. She would be open and honest about her skills, as Marsh needed to know her range of abilities, her weaknesses and strengths. And, she hadn’t gotten the impression he would be annoyed by them.

  Marsh showed her how to load the revolver and rifle. He watched her follow his instructions rapidly and skillfully, and he smiled again. “Now, let’s see how good you are with those weapons.”

  Randee waited patiently as the man set up targets of various sizes and distances. When he was back, at her side, she told him, “First, I need to fire the guns a few times to check their weight, balance, and aim. You have no objections to my familiarizing myself with them, do you?”

  Marsh couldn’t conceal his look of astonishment. “Certainly not. I’m delighted you know enough to do so.”

  Randee examined the weapons more closely than she had at Red River. She aimed and fired at the closest target, then eyed her success. She repeated the procedure several times, compensating for each weapon’s kick and alignment. She glanced at him and said, “Ready.”

  The shapely blonde fired three shots at each target, reloading when necessary. “Why don’t you check them out before I try it moving?”

  Marsh did as she suggested, amazed to find she hadn’t missed a single time. He watched her fire while running, kneeling, and lying flat on the ground. After he checked those shots, she mounted Rojo and displayed her matching skills while riding.

  Marsh eyed her up and down before asking, “Are you sure you aren’t an expert gunslinger whose name I haven’t heard yet?”

  Randee laughed softly. “My father taught me that nothing is more impo
rtant than life and being able to defend it. He drilled me every day like I was a soldier. I’m glad he did, because the law isn’t usually around to ’ protect you when trouble strikes. I only wish I had been with him that last night. Maybe he would still be alive if I had been there to back him up instead of lying in bed with a cold.” Mastering her guilt and pain, she returned her attention to the task at hand. “What about if you blindfold me and I practice loading in the dark?”

  “Excellent idea,” he concurred. He pulled off his bandanna and walked behind her. Placing it over her lovely eyes, he secured it snugly. “How’s that, partner?”

  “I can’t see a thing.” She did the task slowly the first two times, then rapidly speeded up with more practice. She worked until her deft fingers knew the task by heart and could do it under pitch-black conditions.

  Marsh observed her closely. His eyes kept returning to. her lips as she licked them and chewed on them in deep concentration. Finally, he noted how she relaxed once she could perform the task with expertise and speed. What an amazing, unexpected woman, he mused. Was there nothing she couldn’t do, and do well? Mercy, she nearly had him beat in skills! Even so, no twinges of jealousy or irritation nibbled at him, only a curious pride in her ability. Here was a worthy partner, not one to be treated differently because she was a female. Yep, he decided, she’s quite a woman. “If you’re as good under fire as you are standing here, I have nothing to worry about on the trail.” His keen mind corrected, nearly nothing, only self-control …

  ” Having removed the blindfold as he was talking, Randee returned it to Marsh. “Thanks, partner. You’re an expert teacher and you chose excellent weapons. What’s next?”

  “We’ll save your lessons on tracking and stealthy night moves for later. But if you’re as skilled at those as you are with riding and shooting, you won’t need my help or suggestions. You’ll notice we both have dark-skinned horses, which will conceal us better for night work. You’ve just about gotten Rojo as well trained as Midnight. You’re good, Randee, and I’m pleased to be teamed up with you.”