Mike scrambled his hair as if his head hurt. "I can't throw water on ladies, but I'm not sure I should give one the brush she keeps asking for, and the other one has told me twice that it's past teatime."

"Ladies?" The young Ranger finally had Travis's attention.

"Yeah, one's a widow and the other is younger but just as pretty. Both of them look so proper you'd think they'd never steal a thing, but Dillon caught them last night red-handed."

Travis thought of a green-eyed girl he knew who looked to innocent to steal.

"One of them got blond hair and green eyes?" It was a long shot, but he had to ask.

"Yeap. She's the one who wants the brush."

"What did they steal?"

Mike continued scratching his head. "Wine. Can you believe that? Dillon said once they were caught they offered to pay for the bottles, but the saloon owner insisted we lock them up. It don't make no sense, but we've got to wait until tomorrow morning to get the judge to figure it out. The widow claims her husband used to own the cellar they were climbing out of and that she was only taking some of his wine. If that's true, it don't seem like we got much of a crime spree going."

Travis had already moved near the door leading to the cells. "Mind if I take a look at these women?"

"Go ahead, but if you poke your head in there, the young one will throw something at you. She hit Roy with her shoe this morning. Blacked his eye."

"It can't be her," Travis mumbled as he walked through the door leading to two cells reserved for short-term guests of the state.

He noticed a well-dressed woman in black standing by the window. She had her eyes closed and the sun was warming her face. She could have been a painting of the Madonna. He'd never seen a woman look less like a criminal.

Then he saw Rainey a few feet away. She was storming back and forth across the cell like a caged cat. Her skirt had mud all over it, and her hair was a mass of curls.

"Damn it, Rainey!" Travis yelled. "Why'd you stand me up for lunch?"

She turned and stared at him as if amazed such a nitwit could talk. "I'm sorry." She squared her shoulders and put her fists on her hips. "I seemed to have been detained."

Then both women laughed.

Mike ran in behind Travis. "You know this woman?" Suddenly his boring assignment became very interesting. "You know her, McMurray?"

"Know her?" Travis swore. "I plan to marry her when she gives up her life of crime."

One glance at Mike's face, and it was Travis's turn to laugh at how ridiculous he sounded. If Mike had any sense, he'd lock him up with them. But then, of course, he'd have to arrest Duck as well, for the boy would never leave his side.

Travis tried to explain. "I had scheduled a lunch with Miss Adams without knowing she planned a crime spree before meeting me."

The widow giggled. When Travis glanced at her, she was smiling so mischievously, he couldn't help himself-he winked at her. He'd bet a month's pay that Rainey had told the widow all about him.

Rainey was not amused. "I never promised to have lunch with you in the first place, Travis, so don't go trying to add that to my list of crimes."

Mike looked torn. He admired Travis and didn't want to do anything to make him angry, but he had no authority to unlock a cell. He also had never seen McMurray laugh, not in three years of riding from here to the border with him.

"You telling me to let them out?" Mike asked, trying to guess what was going on.

"No," Travis answered. "Lock me in with them. I'll have a talk with these two dangerous outlaws." Travis heard the stool he'd sat the boy on hit the floor as Duck must have jumped off it. He ran to Travis's side, telling all that anywhere the tall man went, he went as well.

When Mike pulled the door open and stepped aside, Travis and Duck walked into the cell. "Bring us some coffee, would you, Mike?" Travis asked. "And make a fresh pot. I have a feeling it may take more than one cup to straighten this out."

"I prefer tea," Rainey added.

"Wine for me." The widow giggled. "I think there are a few bottles on the desk."

"Coffee," Travis corrected. "Just coffee all around."

Mike disappeared. At last he'd been asked to do something that made sense.

With both women staring at him, Travis walked across the cell and sat down on the bunk, stretching his leg straight to ease the discomfort. Duck stayed right with him. The boy didn't look like he liked the idea of being in a cage, even a big one, but as long as Travis was with him, he'd survive.

Duck sat as close as he could beside Travis and wrapped his thin arm around Travis's elbow.

The widow bent in front of Duck. "What's your name, son?" Her smile softened years off her face, and Travis didn't miss the laugh lines around her eyes. She might be in mourning now, but she'd known happier times. She had a kindness in her eyes that would have taken a master actor to fake.

Duck moved his head behind Travis's arm.

"He doesn't talk, ma'am," Travis answered for the boy, "but we call him Duck."

She peeked at Duck and in a kind voice said, "Well, hello, Duck, my names start with Ds too. I'm Dottie Davis."

Then the widow straightened and stared at Travis. "You'll have to give that boy a proper name. It's your duty as his father. He can't grow into a man with a name like Duck."

Travis started to explain that he wasn't the father, but he figured he was about as close to it as Duck had. He changed the subject. "You used to be a teacher, Mrs. Davis?"

She nodded slightly. "I used to be a lot of things, but right now it appears I'm a criminal."

"I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding." Travis glanced over at Rainey hoping she knew his words were for her as well. "Sometimes situations look like one thing and in reality they are quite another. I've had a few months to study the law lately, and maybe I can straighten all this out for you two ladies."

The widow took a deep breath but didn't look like she held much hope in his prediction. "Thank you. Are you a lawyer or a Ranger?"

"I'm taking the bar to be a lawyer tomorrow, but right now I'm a Ranger. Travis McMurray at your service."

"Well, Mr. McMurray, how do we go about getting out of this place. You're not going to believe how horrible we've been mistreated. No water to wash, and we had to sleep in our clothes last night. And this morning we awoke to find a strange man standing by the door staring at us." The widow looked about ready to cry. "I'll never get the smell of this place out of my clothes."

Travis glanced at Rainey again. She'd turned toward the window and didn't even look like she paid attention to the conversation. She was the one who stood him up for lunch, who got herself in jail, but she acted as if he should be the one apologizing.

Maybe in kissing her last night he'd gone too far, but it felt so right. She'd seemed fine until he started talking and made a fool of himself asking her to marry him. If he even had another moment alone with her, he swore he'd forget talking all together.

"First lets get the facts right," Travis began. "What were you doing at the time you ran into Ranger Dillon?"

Mrs. Davis straightened as if she were under oath. "Stealing two bottles of wine."

Rainey laughed. "Tell the truth, Dottie. You were only stealing one bottle. I had the other one in my hand."

"Yes, that is right, dear, but you were only holding it until I climbed out of the cellar. So, Mr. McMurray, you need to explain to your friends that they should let Rainey go immediately."

Travis frowned. This wasn't going to be as easy as he thought. He leaned back against the bars. Duck crawled up in his lap and put his head on Travis's shoulder. The tiny boy fell asleep with Travis patting his back.

"Do you want me to hold him?" Dottie asked.

Travis passed the boy slowly to the widow. She cradled him and begin to hum making Travis wonder how women instinctively knew how to do that. She seemed to have forgotten all her problems as she rocked the boy in her arms.

Travis stood and joined Rainey by the window. He raised his hand to the bars a few inches from her head, but made no attempt to touch her. "Were you planning to meet me before this happened?" Travis had no idea why it was important for him to know.

"Yes," she answered. "I needed to tell you that I think Snort and Whiny were only talking. For some reason planning a man's death seems to be their favorite break conversation. I've listened several more nights since I wrote the letter to you and they haven't progressed in their plot."

He relaxed, moving closer so that their conversation became private. "When I saw them last night, I almost laughed out loud. They were exactly as you described them."

Rainey turned from the window and looked up at him. "I've never really seen them clearly. Mostly they're just shadows below. What do they look like?"

He shrugged. "Snort isn't that old, maybe thirty, but her face is lined and tired. The one you call Whiny is thin, bony really, with breasts that look like puppy dog ears."

Rainey's eyes narrowed. "And how do you know that?"

Smiling, he admitted, "We had a few drinks and the strap on her dress slipped. I saw more than I wish I had." He laughed. "Believe me."

To his surprise, Rainey blushed. She held her head high as she asked, "And do you see quite a lot of women's chests in your line of work?"

Brushing his finger over her warm cheek, he whispered, "I don't think we should be talking about this. I shouldn't have said anything." In fact, if anyone would have asked him if he'd ever talk to a young woman and use the word breast, he would have denied it. But, in a funny way, he and Rainey were close friends. Two currents ran between them. One of attraction he'd felt from that first night at the barn dance, and one of friendship that had grown in the letters and in conversations he'd had with her in his mind. He had the feeling she'd known the same kind of conversations.