Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [4]
The conductor emerged from the train with a lantern and walked it over to the Ranger, who moved within a few feet of Georgie. The light revealed a fine white Stetson. A big bushy beard. An olive shirt. A black string tie. And a gun belt strapped about his hips. A massive emblem buckle made of gold and silver held it together. She squinted, but couldn’t make out the handles of his pistols.
“And you didn’t see anything?” Landrum asked the short man and his wife. “Hear anything? Nothing at all?”
“Well, they kept saying, ‘Hands up,’ ” the wife offered.
Landrum rubbed his eyes. Between the shadow from his hat and the full beard, his face was every bit as hard to discern as the outlaws’. “Any distinguishing features, ma’am? A disfigured eye, a scar? Anything at all would be helpful.”
The couple looked at each other, as if it would help them remember something profound. But Georgie knew the Ranger was wasting his time. Frank Comer was nothing short of a legend in Texas. He rode fast horses, robbed trains, outwitted the law, and spread his newfound wealth wherever he went. Georgie had no doubt the man could knock on any door in the state and be welcomed, fed, and harbored.
No. The passengers on this train would become celebrities in their own right and would carry tales of Comer for many months to come.
The weeping woman refused to be consoled, her hysterics gaining momentum, her sobs sounding like a saw rasping through wood.
Landrum looked her direction. “Is she hurt or just scared?”
The gruffness of his voice whipped Georgie up to her full height. She opened her mouth to defend the woman, but the widow herself answered him.
“Neither, sir. I’m overcome with gratitude. When Mr. Comer found out I was on my way to my childhood home after burying Henry and losing everything, he gave me this.” She opened a gloved hand to reveal a handful of gold coins.
“He took my gun,” a man farther down shouted, “but then he emptied it and gave it right back.”
“He signed my dime novel.” A boy with a bow tie and short pants held up his pulp fiction pamphlet. Georgie had seen him reading it earlier on the train. Its cover held a colorful illustration of a masked man with kindly eyes. Thick block letters across the top read, The Legend of FRANK COMER.
Ranger Landrum moved his attention back to the widow. “That money belongs to the Texas & Pacific, ma’am. I’m going to have to ask you to turn it over.”
The widow pulled back, then narrowed her eyes, loosened her collar, and dropped the coins right down her bodice.
Landrum took a step forward. “You oughtn’t have done that, ma’am.”
Readjusting her collar, she held the Ranger’s gaze. “I’m rather fatigued, sir. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll return to my seat on the train.”
The woman sailed past him, daring him to stop her, her skirts swishing with each step.
Georgie bit her cheeks. Any cooperation Landrum might have received had vanished the moment he challenged the widow. And she had a feeling he knew it.
His fierce gaze moved to the boy with the dime novel.
“No!” the little fellow screamed, throwing himself into his mother’s arms.
Swooping him up and hugging him tight, she followed the same path as the widow. The rest of the passengers did the same, all giving a wide berth to Texas Ranger Lucious Landrum.
Chapter Two
“A telephone salesman?” Lucious stared at his captain, aghast. “You want me to go undercover as a telephone salesman?”
“And repairman.” Captain Heywood didn’t even look up from his desk, his pen skating across the paper in front of him.
“You must be joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
The wooden blinds in the dusty office of Ranger headquarters were tightly closed against the noon sun, but the captain still wore his silver-gray Stetson. Lucious didn’t need to see beneath its brim, though, to know the man wasn’t joking. He’d heard that tone of voice many times before.
“Sir, I think going undercover is a mistake. My reputation as a Ranger will help flush Comer out.”
“Like it did last time, and the time before that, and the time before