for someone, of course. Miles, you got any information on Dan Davenport, also known as Cutter Dan? He is 6-foot-tall, about two hundred plus pounds of muscle, dark hair, and dark eyes."
"Cutter Dan. I've heared of him. Not a nice fella. Evil."
"Yes, he is evil for sure. He hunts, murders, and mutilates young women, then he cuts his initials C.D. on their forehead." Fury was silent then, waiting for Miles to respond.
"You know, Fury, it's funny how people are with their animals.''
"What?" Fury replied, believing the man had not listened, but she knew that sometimes Miles took time to get to the point.
"Fury, you ever talk to your horse?"
"Sometimes."
"A lot of folks do. Before they leave their horse, they will stand there and tell the animal all kinda things. Folks who leave their horses here forget I am even around, so I hear a lot."
"And?" added Fury, losing her patience.
"A week or so back, a big fella come in with his horse. He kinda fits your description. If I'd known he might be Cutter Dan, I woulda hightailed it to the law."
"Go on."
"He left his horse with me, and I put him in the stall over yonder. Thirty minutes later, he comes back, telling me he forgot to get his saddlebags. I pointed him toward his horse's stall, and I go back to working. Well, when he gets to the stall, sure enough, he starts talking to his horse. He forgets I'm there. Most people do, and he tells his horse it won't be much longer, and they will be in Mexico. But first, they have to lay low and wait for the law to get tired of looking for him. This fella tells his horse they've got a long ride ahead of them, to Langston. It's a few days south of here; anyway, he says he knows there is an abandoned cabin outside of town where they can hole up. Then he tells his horse there are grassy meadows where the horse kin graze and cool water to drink from a river. There is no sweeter tasting water than the water in Spiny River."
Miles paused and smiled at Fury.
"Funny how some horrible people kin care about an animal."
"You be careful," he said with a smile and turned to walk Fury's horse to the stall.
"Miles, don't tell anyone else your story," Fury said.
Miles raised his hand as he walked away, his way of signaling Fury that he heard what she said.
Max passed by Fury as she left to go to the hotel. Fury figured the dog wanted to bed down in the livery with her horse.
Her hollow stomach growled. When she hunted a bounty, she lived on limited provisions and learned to ignore her hunger. But being in a town with some money in her pocket meant treating herself to a real meal. The thought of a home-cooked meal, especially one cooked by Nora Bailey, the owner of Bailey's restaurant, enticed her. Even the thought of Nora's juicy fried chicken and melt-in-your-mouth chocolate cake made Fury's mouth water.
"Hey, kid."
Fury sighed when she recognized the man in front of her. She was annoyed at herself that she'd broken one of Hank's most important survival rules—always be aware of your surroundings.
"I'm not a kid," she answered as she attempted to walk around the large ranger standing in front of her.
The top of Fury's head barely reached the middle of his chest. Fury hated to look up at someone; after all, how can you be intimidating when someone is towering over you? She reluctantly tilted her gaze slightly up, ready to give the ranger her best intimidating stare, but something happened—a bit of Belle slipped by Fury's wall as she considered his jade eyes enhanced by his tanned skin. She remembered his brown sugar-colored hair and the strong angular lines of his face. He was the kind of man Belle dreamed about when she imagined her future husband.
A warm smile broke across his face. "Kid, you all right?"
"Um, yeah, what?"
"I asked if you are all right. You looked a bit lost for a moment."
"I ain't lost," she said as Fury pushed Belle back and regained control. "What ya want from me, mister?"
"I want to help you. Do you have a place to stay? Have you eaten?"
"I thought you were a ranger, not my fairy godmother," Fury said with a shadow of humor in her otherwise flat voice.
Travis grinned at the insult. "No, I'm not your fairy godmother. I want to help you like someone helped me once. You see, when I was around your age, I was orphaned. I drifted from town to town and got in some trouble. A Texas Ranger took me in, and he changed my life. I would probably be in jail or dead if someone hadn't reached out and helped me."
Fury folded her arms across her chest.
"Uh huh, and you want to change my life. Well, no thanks, go find another charity case."
Fury stepped around him, but as she passed, Travis grabbed her arm. "But, kid—"
Travis noticed something on the kid's arm. Even in the fading evening light, it was plain to see the bell-shaped birthmark.
Fury felt him tighten his grip as he pulled her arm closer to get a better look. She tried to retrieve her arm from his iron grip, but he held on.
"Belle?" Travis half whispered. He glared at Fury's eyes, a faded violet, not the piercing shade they once shone. Maybe the harshness of her life had robbed them of their uniqueness. Travis searched them, hoping for recognition but received only silence.
His hold weakened, and Fury succeeded in yanking her arm from his grip. She jerked her sleeve down to cover her birthmark.
"Have you gone loco? Why in the hell are you calling me a bell?"
Travis shook off his stunned trance. "Because it's your name. You are Belle, the girl who went missing a few years ago, the girl with the bell-shaped birthmark."
"Listen, Ranger, I don't know what you've been drinking, but my name ain't Belle and I sure as hell ain't no girl. Leave me alone, mister, or I may have to shoot you."
Travis chuckled at her warning and watched as Fury stomped away from where he stood. He knew he'd found his Belle.
Fury drummed her fingers on the red gingham tablecloth, contemplating what to do about the troublesome lawman.
"Here you go," Mrs. Bailey said in a cheery tone as she plopped a bowl of stew and a stack of fresh baked bread in front of Fury.
Fury nodded her approval, and Mrs. Bailey left to tend to her other customers.
How could I be so stupid, so careless? She picked at her food. That meddling ranger knows who I am. What am I going to do?
Fury scooped up a spoonful of stew and guided it to her mouth. I could shoot him. Naw, Fury, you can't shoot Travis. Besides, he's a ranger. There would be too many questions. I don't recall him being so damn irritating. I gotta step up my plans and avoid that infuriating ranger.
The aroma of the stew overpowered Fury's worries concerning the ranger. She ate like a starved animal, enjoying every juicy warm morsel. The meal warmed her insides and comforted her worries until an unwelcome visitor sat down across from her.
"I don't recall invitin' anyone to eat with me," Fury said, not lifting her gaze from her meal.
"You didn't; I invited myself."
"Well, you can just uninvite yourself, mister."
"Not until we talk."
"You sure like to take risks with your life, mister."
"Who's threatening my life?" Travis chuckled.
Fury raised her gaze and glared at him. "If I have to tell you, then you are a bigger fool than I thought."
"Listen here," Travis leaned in, "I've had just about enough of your threats. I'm