Dangerous

by Millie Criswell

Genres: Historical Romance

Synopsis

Texas Ranger Ethan Bodine and horticulturist Wilhemina Granville are both after Rafe Bodine, a man with a considerable bounty on his head. Ethan is on Rafe's trail because he's his brother, and Wilhemina is in pursuit to get the bounty money to save her family home. But as Ethan and Wilhemina search for the fugitive, they find they have far more in common than they first thought--and that love can blossom in the most dangerous of circumstances.

Release date: February 15, 2001

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 384

Sample

 

SHE HAD NO INTENTION OF BOWING TO ETHAN BODINE’S ORDERS.

Wilhemina walked up to Ethan Bodine, unmindful that she was still in a state of undress, and stared him right in the eye. “I will not be dictated to, Ranger Bodine, not by you or any man. I have no intention of giving up my pursuit of your brother. I will not be bullied, nor do I need you for a protector. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you.”

Ethan listened to every word Wilhemina spewed forth. But he was having a heck of a time concentrating, for his eyes had a mind of their own and were roaming over every delectable inch of her body.

The sunlight streaming through the window bathed Wilhemina’s body in a warm glow. Desire filled every inch of him, overpowering his common sense and good judgment. Shocking not only Wilhemina but himself, Ethan grabbed her, pulled her to his chest, and proceeded to kiss her senseless.

 

Please see below for praise of Millie Criswell’s other outstanding romances. . . .

 



 

 

RESOUNDING ACCLAIM FOR “ONE OF THE BEST IN THE WESTERN ROMANCE GENRE”*

MILLIE CRISWELL

 

*Literary Times

 

“Nobody does a better Western romance with style and panache than Millie Criswell. As the Bard would have said: ‘All’s well with a Criswell.’ ”

—Harriet Klausner, Affaire de Coeur

 

“Millie spins an absolutely delightful yarn.”

—Janelle Taylor, author of Destiny Mine

 

. . . AND HER WONDERFUL PREVIOUS NOVEL DESPERATE

 

“Tightly plotted. . . . Readers will be hooked the moment Rafe addresses Emmaline as ‘little lady,’ and images of John Wayne at his most gallant come to mind.”

—Publishers Weekly

 

“Five stars! This warm-hearted, gritty Western simply steals its way into your heart. . . . Millie Criswell’s sweet sense of humor, combined with poignancy and an unforgettable cast of characters, touches you and brings you a smile and a sigh.”

—Romantic Times

 

“Four stars! This Western runs the full gamut of emotions, with ample doses of humor and heroism.”

—Affaire de Coeur

 

“A handsome ex-ranger on the run, a socialite with five orphan children—Ms. Criswell delivers another fast-paced, rollicking Wild West adventure. Enjoy!”

—Kat Martin, author of Innocence Undone

 

“A riveting, tender tale that leads readers on an absorbing Wild West adventure. Full of spellbinding action and vibrant passion. A wonderful romantic treasure.”

—Rendezvous

 

“Packed with emotion and tender humor, a wonderful page-turner you should not miss.”

—Patricia Potter, author of The Marshall and The Heiress

 

“Five bells! Fantastic!”

—Bell, Book & Candle

 

“A touching, emotional, fast-paced story that will leave readers thirsty for more. The story will stick with you long after you’ve read the last page. Fans will not want to miss the continuing adventures of the Bodine brothers.”

—Writers & Readers Romance Group (Web site magazine)

 

“This book is going right into my ‘keeper’ pile. I never wanted this book to end. Criswell has created characters throughout this book that are memorable and leave you wanting more.”

—Gayle Fine, Under the Covers (Web site magazine)

 

 

BOOKS  BY  MILLIE  CRISWELL

 

 

FLOWERS  OF  THE  WEST  TRILOGY

 

Wild Heather

Sweet Laurel

Prim Rose

 

 

THE  LAWMEN  TRILOGY

 

Desperate

Dangerous

Defiant

 

 

Published by

WARNER BOOKS

 

 

 

 

To my hardworking Warner sales rep, Paul Leahy, who does an outstanding job of selling my books. Thanks for the extra effort you always put forth!

 

 

 

 

The author wishes to acknowledge Susan Broadwater Chen for her valuable assistance in the writing of this book. Her expertise and willingness to provide information on a variety of subjects is greatly appreciated.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Justiceburg, Texas, Autumn 1879

 

SLAMMING THE DOOR TO THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE BEHIND him so hard the windows shook, Texas Ranger Ethan Bodine stepped onto the wooden sidewalk, puffing his cigar with agitation. Staring out at the driving rain, he tried to control his fury with Elmo Scruggs.

The man was a fool to think Ethan’s brother, Rafe Bodine, had shot Bobby Slaughter in cold blood. Ethan had let him know in no uncertain terms what he’d thought of both his misguided opinion and that damned Wanted poster Elmo had printed.

Both Ethan and Rafe had ridden with the Texas Rangers for years, but Rafe had resigned a few months back—against Ethan’s wishes—to marry their neighbor Ellie Masters, a lovely young woman they’d known most of their lives. Rafe’s wife and unborn child had been brutally murdered by Hank Slaughter’s gang, the ruthless criminals who held Rafe responsible for putting Hank in prison five years before for robbing the bank in Misery, Texas. Now Rafe was on the outlaw trail himself, seeking revenge against the four men.

Ethan couldn’t blame Rafe for wanting to avenge his wife’s murder. He might have been tempted to do the same if he’d been married—a situation not likely to happen in his lifetime. But he also couldn’t allow Rafe to take the law into his own hands. The day Rafe decided to go after Hank Slaughter was the day he became an outlaw in the eyes of the law. And it was the same day Ethan had been forced to ride down his brother like a common criminal—the saddest day of his career as a Texas Ranger.

He hadn’t taken a full step toward the street when two elderly white-haired ladies accosted him. One was as thin as a rail, with skin so parchmentlike that he could see tiny veins beneath the surface of her cheeks; the other was plump as a peacock and almost as colorful.

“Mister,” they called out in unison, waving frantically to gain his attention.

Drawing to a halt, Ethan touched his hat brim in greeting to the two women, flicked the ash off the end of his cigar, and deposited it in the pocket of his sheepskin jacket.

“Afternoon, ladies. What brings you out on such a dreary day?” The rain was pouring down with no end in sight, but Ethan knew he had to leave anyway before Rafe got too far ahead or some crazy bounty hunter caught up with him.

“Something terrible has happened, sir, and we need your immediate assistance,” explained the plump one with the god-awful hat. Flowers, bows, and feathers in every imaginable color decorated the crown. Ethan tried to keep a safe distance.

“Isn’t that right, Birdy?” the peacock asked.

The other lady twittered, fluttering her thin arms in the air as if she couldn’t quite decide what she should do, then nodding, reminding Ethan of a hummingbird. It wasn’t difficult for him to understand why she’d earned such a nickname. Birds of a feather and all that.

The last thing Ethan needed right now was to play knight in shining armor to a couple of elderly damsels in distress.

“I ain’t the law in these parts, ladies. ’Fraid you’ll have to speak to Elmo Scruggs if you’ve got a problem.” He started to leave, but the next question stopped him in midstride, and he turned back.

“Aren’t you the Texas Ranger who’s following that murderer?”

“Eunice! Don’t be so blunt.” Birdy smiled apologetically. “Eunice isn’t known for her tact, so you’ll have to forgive her.”

Ethan didn’t intend to remain in town long enough to forgive anyone, but he sure as hell didn’t like these ladies calling his brother a murderer. “Whether or not a man’s found to be a murderer is decided by a jury, ma’am. But yes, to answer your question, I’m going after him.”

“We’re the Granville sisters. I’m Eunice, and this is Bernadette. But we call her Birdy, Mister . . .”

“Bodine, ma’am.”

“Mr. Bodine, we need your help,” Eunice Granville stated. “Our niece has gone and done something rash, and we fear for her life.”

“Her life,” Birdy parroted, nodding in agreement.

“I’m sorry to hear that, ladies, but you’ll have to inform the sheriff. I don’t—”

“Wilhemina has gone off to hunt down the man you’re looking for, Mr. Bodine. She has become a bounty hunter.” Both women stared at each other, wringing their gloved hands nervously.

“What?” Incredulity punctuated his words. “You’re joking, right?” A woman bounty hunter? He’d never heard of such a thing.

“It’s true,” Birdy assured him. “We’ve been experiencing some financial difficulty of late, and, well . . .”

“And our niece decided to take matters into her own hands,” Eunice finished, clutching his arm with surprising strength for such an elderly woman. “Wilhemina’s always been a bit impulsive, but she’s never done anything quite as drastic as this. You’ve got to help us, Mr. Bodine. Wilhemina could be in grave danger.”

“Of all the harebrained, stupid things I’ve heard of in my lifetime, this takes the cake.” Women didn’t have a lick of sense about them as far as he was concerned, and this Wilhemina Granville sounded more empty-headed than most. “How experienced is your niece at tracking?”

Eunice swallowed. “Not very. You see, Wilhemina is a horticulturist by profession. And—”

“A what?”

“She studies plants, things like that,” Birdy said. “And she’s very good at what she does.”

“Wilhemina has always been a tad headstrong. She gets that from me, I’m afraid,” Eunice confessed. “And from our brother, her father, God rest his soul. And when that horrible man at the bank, Mr. Bowers, threatened to foreclose on our home . . .”

Birdy dabbed at her eyes with a frilly lace handkerchief. “Well, I’m sure you can understand why she felt compelled to go after this criminal. The price on his head is awfully appealing.” Pointing at the Wanted poster of Rafe now hanging in front of the sheriff’s office, which offered a reward of five hundred dollars, dead or alive, she dabbed at her eyes once again, as if the sight of him were just too much to bear.

“What if he tries to kill our Wilhemina?” Eunice clutched Ethan’s arm tighter. “She’s so young, so full of life. I just couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her.”

Ethan’s voice chilled to arctic proportions, and he extricated himself from her hold. “My brother isn’t a murderer.”

He heaved a frustrated sigh, for he wanted to put Justiceburg behind him and be on his way to find Rafe. He’d been on his brother’s trail for over a week. But he’d been stuck in the two-bit town for days. He’d come here to talk to the prostitute who’d sworn that Rafe had shot down Bobby Slaughter in cold blood. Ethan needed to interrogate Judy DeBerry, Bobby Slaughter’s former lover, before he could depart, but the woman hadn’t been the least bit cooperative in making herself available to him, and her stubbornness had cost him precious time.

Now it seemed these little old ladies would cause more of a delay.

Both women gaped at Ethan, then mined to stare at the likeness on the poster, noticing for the first time the name printed there. “Why, we didn’t notice that he has the same name as you do, Mr. Bodine,” Birdy pointed out. “How silly of us.”

Ethan sighed at the understatement. “Yes, ma’am. Rafe is my younger brother.”

The woman’s blue eyes brightened, even as they reflected and calculated the possibilities. “Why, that’s wonderful, Mr. Bodine! Now you and Wilhemina will have a common goal.”

His forehead wrinkled at the woman’s convoluted logic. “I’m not following your drift, ma’am.”

“You obviously want to find your brother and bring him back safely”—Eunice took up where Birdy left off—“before someone else does. So it only stands to reason that since our niece is going after your brother to collect the price on his head, it’s in your best interest to find her first.”

“Wilhemina’s not a crack shot,” Birdy interjected, piping up for her sister, “but she’s proficient enough with a gun to hit what she aims at. And she’ll be aiming at your brother, Mr. Bodine. We’re sure you’ll want to stop her from hitting her mark.”

The two women smiled in complete satisfaction, nodding at one another as if they had just solved their immense problem.

Ethan frowned, wondering if the two women were touched in the head. Because there was no way in hell that he was going after some errant horticulturist when his brother’s life was in jeopardy. And he doubted very much that this Wilhemina Granville could sneak up on Rafe and shoot him anyway. He was a Texas Ranger, after all—ex–Texas Ranger, Ethan amended. It wasn’t likely that Rafe would allow some fool woman to get the drop on him.

“Sorry to disappoint you, ladies, but I’m going after my brother and no one else. It’s my sworn duty to bring him back to Misery to stand trial, and that’s just what I intend to do.” Judge Barkley had already issued a writ of habeas corpus giving Ethan the right to bring him back to Misery, though the murder took place in Justiceburg. And he wasn’t about to get sidetracked by some mindless female.

“It’s doubtful your niece will get very far. She’ll probably come home this evening. Women don’t like being out in inclement weather. It tends to muss their hair.”

Eunice’s double chins quivered in indignation. “I think you may have misunderstood us, Mr. Bodine. Just because Wilhemina isn’t an experienced tracker doesn’t mean that she isn’t the most stubborn young woman on the face of this earth. Once she sets her mind to doing something, she does it. And she’s an excellent horsewoman. Why, she’s won several blue ribbons for her equestrian abilities at the county fair.”

“Is that a fact? Well, she’ll just have to ride back here on her own, then, because I don’t have the time to find her. Now, if you ladies will excuse me?” He stepped into the street to where his horse was hitched to the post.

“But, Mr. Bodine,” Birdy implored with a shake of her head, “what about our niece? Wilhemina is all we have left in this world. If she were to perish . . .”

Tears rolled down both women’s cheeks, and Ethan wished to God he had Wilhemina the horticulturist in his clutches so he could strangle the inconsiderate woman.

What kind of person would ride off and leave two old ladies to fend for themselves?

He mounted the large black stallion. “If I come across your niece in my travels, I’ll be sure to let her know that you’re worried about her.”

“And you’ll send her straight home?” Birdy looped her arm through Eunice’s, and both women smiled bravely.

“You can be sure of it, ladies.”

Tipping his hat, Ethan rode away, wondering how many more strange encounters he would have before finding his brother and thinking that Rafe had a lot more to atone for than the alleged murder of Bobby Slaughter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the Trail, Texas, Autumn 1879

 

CAMPED NEAR THE NORTH FORK OF THE DOUBLE mountain River, Wilhemina Granville shivered uncontrollably in her bedroll, despite the fact that her campfire still blazed brightly under the trickle of falling rain. She wondered again at the wisdom of her decision to hunt down the outlaw Rafe Bodine, though she knew she had little choice.

The man was wanted for murder. Though she was proficient in the use of a firearm, she was out of her element in dealing with a vicious outlaw. Calling oneself a bounty hunter was a lot more impressive than actually being one. And circumstances being what they were, she needed the five-hundred-dollar reward to pay her aunts’ debt. She needed to bring the outlaw back to Justiceburg or her aunts would lose their home.

She tossed another stick onto the fire; it hissed, caught, and burst into flame. In the distance a coyote howled, seemingly as unhappy with his surroundings as Wilhemina was at the moment. She cursed aloud the banker Rufus Bowers, whom she held responsible for her present set of circumstances.

If it hadn’t been for the lecherous coot, she’d still be safe and warm back in Justiceburg, savoring one of her aunt’s delicious sweet-potato pies before she retired to her own comfy feather bed, instead of shivering her behind off out here in the middle of nowhere.

Three days ago she had gone to the bank officer at the Justiceburg Savings and Loan, asking him to extend the repayment period on her aunts’ mortgage.

Money was tight. Her father’s death a year ago had revealed the sad state of his financial affairs. She had come home to Texas disillusioned in any case by the lack of career opportunities in Boston. After attending college north of Boston, she had secured a position as a horticulturist at the renowned Boston Horticultural Society. But she’d soon discovered that women weren’t welcomed into a man’s domain.

Employment prospects weren’t any better in Justiceburg. There wasn’t a need for a horticulturist in the small provincial town. Her inability to find a job had only added to her family’s monetary woes.

Wilhemina felt it was her responsibility to render her aunts’ only domicile safe and secure. Eunice and Bernadette Granville had raised Wilhemina after her mother died in childbirth and had provided comfort after her father succumbed to a lingering illness last year. They’d been kind and caring, supporting her decision to pursue a career in horticulture though it was thought of as an unconventional choice for a woman. She wasn’t about to repay those two dear souls by abandoning them to the likes of Rufus Bowers.

Wilhemina had tried her best to deal civilly with the bank officer, but the man had been anything but business-like. Mr. Bowers’s suggestions had been lewd and revolting. Even now, as she recalled his improper advances, the memory of his flaccid face and puffy lips nauseated her.

“What type of collateral do you offer to secure the mortgage, Miss Granville? The mortgage money is due and payable on the first of every month, and your aunts are now several months behind in their payments. We are not a charitable institution, as you well know.”

Wilhemina stiffened, doing her best not to lash out at the man’s arrogance, for she knew it would not accomplish her goal. “I’m not asking for charity, Mr. Bowers. I’m merely asking for an extension on the loan. Surely you wouldn’t consider putting a couple of elderly women out on the street. My aunts’ home is all they have in this world.” And they were all she had left.

He stood and came around to the front of the impressive mahogany desk, then perched on the edge of it, his knee precariously close to Wilhemina’s. He was sweating profusely, and she could detect the distinctive scent of sensen on his person. She would never again be able to eat a piece of licorice without thinking of him.

“You’re an attractive woman, Miss Granville, and I am not a heartless man. I’m sure we can find some mutually satisfying solution to this problem.” His leering gaze made her skin crawl, as did the way he rubbed his chubby thighs.

Knowing a proposition when she heard one, Wilhemina rose. She fought to keep her voice impassive, which was extremely difficult considering how angry she felt. “The only solution to this problem, Mr. Bowers, is an extension on my aunts’ loan. Anything else you may be suggesting is out of the question.”

He tsked several times, shaking his head. “That’s a pity, my dear.” Reaching out, he attempted to caress her cheek, but she stiffened and pulled back. “A little cooperation from you and I could tear up the Granville mortgage altogether. Your aunts would never have to worry about losing their home. And you, my dear, look old enough to know the ways of the world.”

At twenty-eight Wilhemina was definitely old enough to know which way the wind blew. And this was an ill wind blowing at best. She had already made a foolish mistake back in Boston with a colleague, a man whom she’d trusted and admired. That mistake had cost her her virginity, not to mention her faith in men. And she had no intention of allowing some corpulent banker she had no tender feelings for whatsoever to place her in a similar circumstance.

Moving toward the desk, she smiled deceptively as her hand crept closer to the flower-filled vase. “I’m indeed old enough to know the ways of the world, Mr. Bowers. I’m also old enough to know a lecher when I see one, and I’m not stupid enough to be taken in by the likes of you.”

Anger stiffened his spine. “Really? Well, since you’re so smart, Miss Granville, I hope you’ll be able to come up with the money to save your aunts’ home. Perhaps you should consider going after that outlaw who has a price on his head. I hear bounty hunting is a very lucrative profession.” His malicious laughter filled the room, and her hand stilled.

“I’d rather become a bounty hunter than allow a man like you near me.”

“In that case, that is exactly what you must do.” With a feral smile, he reached into a stack of papers and extracted one, handing it to her. “In order to pay off your aunts’ debt, you must bring this outlaw back to Justiceburg to stand trial.”

Staring at the Wanted poster of Rafe Bodine, she gasped in outrage, but he ignored her and continued. “If you are unable to do so, I will evict your aunts and toss them out on the street. And it will give me great pleasure to do so.”

“But you can’t do that!”

With a shrug, he held up the mortgage to her aunts’ home, taunting her with it. “I assure you, Miss Granville, that I can. And it’s perfectly legal. When your aunts signed the loan papers they agreed to abide by the terms and conditions that I set forth, should they ever become delinquent or default on their loan.

“I’ve hereby decided that one of the conditions to satisfy their delinquency and repayment of the loan is that you bring back this ruthless criminal. If you can. Otherwise . . .”

Picking up the vase, she noted that it was a cheap Meissen reproduction. Not allowing herself time to reconsider, she poured the contents—water and yellow sunflowers—over the banker’s balding head. “I accept your terms, Mr. Bowers,” she stated before marching out the door and slamming it behind her.

Wilhemina’s only regret now, as she stared into the dancing flames of the campfire, was that she hadn’t turned around to see the outrage on his face. No doubt he had turned three shades of red. She could still hear his gasps of outrage, and the memory filled her with satisfaction.

She rarely lost her temper and was inordinately proud of the fact that she held tight rein on her emotions, but this was one time she was glad she’d let herself go. Though it was a pity about the flowers. They had been too lovely to waste on a scoundrel like Mr. Bowers.

Ah well, she told herself, she would make it up to the lovely Helianthus annus next time she crossed its path.

 

*    *    *

 

The little town of Santa Rosa, New Mexico Territory, was too much like Nogales, Mexico, to make Ethan feel any too comfortable. Lorna Mae Murray, the woman who’d deceived him, the woman he’d fancied himself in love with, had been from Nogales. And anything or anywhere that reminded him of Lorna Mae was something to avoid.

Licking the salt from the web of his hand, he tipped back the glass of tequila and downed it in one gulp, squinting his eyes as the pungent liquor went down hard; then he sucked the lime and tossed it into the empty glass.

He’d ridden hard since leaving Justiceburg a week ago. He and his horse needed a good night’s rest, and Ethan knew he could find it in Juan Campos’s cantina. He’d known Juan for many years and could count on the man for a hot meal and warm bed—provided, of course, he had the money to pay. Juan never did anyone a favor for free.

“You would like another tequila, Señor Bodine?” Juan’s weathered face held a hopeful expression, and Ethan could almost hear the pesos being calculated inside the man’s head.

“Might as well give me the whole damn bottle, amigo. I’m feeling kinda melancholy, and shooters always lift my spirits.”

“Sí, señor,” Juan agreed with a nod, his grin knowing. “And they will also lift you off the floor after you drink too many and pass out, no? But you no worry. Juan will cart you to the back room like the last time.”

Ethan had a vague memory of the “last time.” If he recalled correctly, his head had pounded for three days straight and had swelled so big, it wouldn’t have fit into a horse corral.

“Grácias, amigo.” He grasped the neck of the bottle and sauntered off to the table at the rear of the adobe building, where he could keep an eye on things and still have his back to the wall. A man couldn’t be too careful these days.

Rumor had it that Texas outlaw Clay Allison, a deranged son of a bitch who liked beheading his victims, had started up a cattle ranch in Colfax County. If the gunfighter was in the territory, Ethan would watch his back, for Clay had a score to settle, like so many others Ethan had hunted during his career.

Shootists, as some gunmen referred to themselves, didn’t have any rules when it came to killing. And shooting a man in the back was a hell of a lot easier than looking him in the eye and pulling the trigger.

A man couldn’t be too careful. That creed had kept Ethan alive longer than most in his profession.

Near the entrance to the cantina, Juan’s brother, Carlos, sat on a stool and strummed his guitar. The Spanish love song he played brought back memories best forgotten.

To think he’d allowed a woman like Lorna Mae, with her sweet smiles and seductive laughter, to dupe him. She’d passed herself off as virtuous, but Ethan discovered soon enough that Lorna Mae was no virgin. Far from it. The lying hussy had tried dragging him to the altar by claiming he’d stolen her innocence to hide the fact she was carrying another man’s child.

“Sweet Jesus!” He belted back another shot of liquor and shook his head, wondering how a man who prided himself on having excellent judgment and common sense had been taken in by such a conniving female.

Was it any wonder these past two months that he felt not the slightest bit of desire where women were concerned? Lorna Mae had taken his pride, his manhood, and smashed it beneath her dainty slipper, and now he had no use for women, in any way, shape, or form. If he never laid eyes on another member of the female sex, it wouldn’t bother. . .