“You heard the lady.”
Caro turned to take in the man with the deep baritone voice that broke through the mayhem. A broad-shouldered stranger sat high on a buckskin quarter horse. The Winchester he aimed at the men seemed as at home in his hands as the Texas Ranger’s star on his chest.
“There’ll be no hanging here today.” The Ranger sounded convincing, and she sent up a prayer that this lawman was right. “Release the lady.”
The man holding Caro gave her a hard shove, and she fell to the ground. Her hands hit the rocky soil, and she winced.
“Near as I can figure, Ranger, there’s one of you and six of us.” Slade’s hand hovered near his pistol.
“You might kill me, but not before I shoot you first.” The Ranger didn’t flinch. “Besides, who says I’m alone?”
The vigilantes peered into the trees surrounding them, but the dusk prevented them from seeing through the shadows. A hill blocked their view to the south, so they couldn’t see who might be waiting there, either. One man tugged on his collar. “Let’s get out of here, Slade. Rangers travel in groups. We can take care of Alvarez later.”
Slade glared at Ricardo Alvarez and then the Ranger. “I assume you’ll take him in.”
“If he’s guilty”—the lawman nodded—“I certainly will.”
Slade waited a few long moments and stepped back. From what Caro had heard, the man liked to win—at everything. A true Texan, he wanted the biggest and the best and wouldn’t settle for anything else.
The men slowly mounted their horses and turned to leave, but before they were out of sight, the Ranger secured his weapon, hurried to her, and offered his hand. “Are you all right, miss?”
“I don’t need your help now, and I didn’t need it before.” Caro swatted his hand away. “I had it handled.”
“Sure you did. What were you going to do next?”
“I would have thought of something. I always do.”
He frowned. “So, this happens often?”
“No … No, of course not.” She narrowed her gaze at him. She scanned the mesquite trees. Had any of them doubled back? “You took a big chance taking your eyes off those vigilantes so soon.”
“My partner has them covered.” He gave her a gorgeous dimpled grin, and she fought the urge to slap the handsome gringo. “Trust me.”
Trust him? She didn’t trust anyone, but especially a man with a badge who didn’t have the sense to watch gun-toting thugs until they were out of his sight. And now he acted as if he’d saved the day to boot.
“I’m Texas Ranger Chisholm Hart, and the Ranger approaching is my partner, Whit Murray.” He pulled a Bowie knife from his belt and sliced through the binding on Ricardo’s wrists. “And you are?”
“Se?orita Caro Maria Cardova Valenzuela, and this is Se?or Ricardo Alvarez.”
“Miss Valenzuela.” He tipped his hat.
“Cardova.”
“But you said—”
“My father was Hernando Cardova. Valenzuela is my mother’s name. By American customs, I would be Caro Cardova, but I prefer both surnames.”
“I see, and I apologize.” He turned to Ricardo. “Sir, I know you’ve been through an ordeal, but I’m going to have to ask you some questions. It’s my duty.”
Duty. The word drove a spike in Caro’s heart. Why did men always think they had to do their duty? Duty had killed her father, and at some point, would most likely kill this handsome, know-it-all gringo with dimples as deep as canyons.
Ricardo wrung the brim of his worn hat in his hands. “I understand. Come back to the Walking Diamond with us. I’m sure our boss, Se?or Reynolds, will want to speak to you both. Perhaps Caro can make you supper to say thank-you for your assistance in saving my neck. It’s the least we can do. Right, Caro?” When she didn’t respond, he nudged her arm. “Right?”
The Ranger sucked in his cheeks to keep from smiling. Did he actually think she would thank him? If so, he’d be waiting an eternity. Other women might fall at his feet when he came to their aid, but she knew better. This egotistical man needed to be taught a lesson.
Ignoring the lot of them, she mounted her horse and a plan formed in her mind. She would most certainly make this interfering, dimpled Ranger supper—a supper he’d never forget.
Chisholm eyed the man and woman riding in front of him and then cast a glance at his partner. After working side by side for over a year now, he and Whit didn’t need words to communicate most things, and one look told him that Whit didn’t trust Ricardo any more than he did. While Ricardo seemed gregarious to a fault, the way he fidgeted and avoided eye contact put Chisholm on guard.
Spring rains and warm temperatures had brought a lush green to this part of central Texas, southwest of Brady City. It brought a sense of nostalgia to him. Down south, at the 7 Heart Ranch, it was probably even greener.