Wanted by Patricia; Potter Page B

from the path he chose, who didn’t know how to bend, who never allowed emotion to influence him. Nick, on the other hand, had learned to bend a long time ago. Perhaps he’d been born that way, or just taught. His father had no rules. There was no black and white in Dr. Jonathon Braden’s world. He lived every moment to the fullest, believing the Lord—or fate—would provide the next day’s meals. He was a con man, plain and simple, with a con man’s incurable optimism. He was, in many ways, like an ageless child, excited by travel and people and new places.
    Growing up with him had always been an adventure. Nick had been well loved, not only by Jonathon and Fleur, but by the various flotsam—performers, itinerant peddlers, hobos, and stragglers—who stayed with the Medicine Show a day, a week or a month, or, like Daniel Webster, years. Nick had grown up pleasing crowds, conducting small cons, and like his father, he saw no wrong in bringing excitement to people who had little of it. If there was a little stretching of truth, a bit of sleight of hand in the shell game, an occasional crooked gambit when money was low, Jonathon had justified it as entertainment for those who could afford it. He never conned a poor man and often gave money to those in need, even when his own family went with less.
    He was one of a kind, and Nick loved him, though as he grew older, he longed for more stability, a bit of security, for those he loved. Jonathon was in his mid-sixties now, Nick’s mother fifty, and Nick wondered how much longer they could live the wandering life Jonathon loved. And there were Lori, who had never had any kind of normal life, and Andy, who was as wild now as a Texas longhorn. They’d all had love in abundance, love and a fierce loyalty to each other, but Nick knew Lori, in particular, needed more. She was twenty-two and knew more about poker than courting. She’d had admirers. Dear God, how she had had admirers. But the Bradens were never in one place long enough to develop any attachments, and Lori shuddered at the thought of becoming a farm wife. She was used to being free in her dress and in her actions; Jonathon had always encouraged her to be so, and Fleur had thought the moon rose and set on her daughter, who was pretty and clever and nigh on irresistible when she set her mind to it.
    Nick sipped the last dregs of the coffee as Morgan Davis moved from where he’d been standing and kicked dust into the fire, quickly extinguishing it. “You have a few minutes while I saddle the horses if you want to wash,” he said, directing his words to Nick.
    Nick stood, grateful for the boon of a few moments’ privacy even though he knew the Ranger was risking little. Nick could barely walk with the leg irons, much less run or mount a horse. Lori rose too.
    â€œYou stay here,” the Ranger said, “until your brother returns.”
    â€œI’m not your prisoner,” she retorted.
    Davis had already put a blanket on one of the horses and was lifting a saddle. Very deliberately he set it back down, his gaze clashing with Lori’s as Nick watched, disquiet flooding him at the battle of wills enacted before him. She had no chance, none at all, against someone like Morgan Davis.
    â€œNo,” Davis said softly. “Not at the moment.” His gaze flickered over to Nick. “But he is, and you’re only making things more difficult. He doesn’t go if you don’t stay.”
    As Nick watched Lori’s face change from defiance to angry acceptance, he realized that if there was one thing he and the Ranger agreed on, it was the need to leave Lori in Laramie. It would take Morgan at least five weeks to get Nick back to Texas, and no one goes five weeks without making a mistake. That’s all Nick needed: one small mistake. And then what? Nick couldn’t leave him alive, or Davis would chase Nick the rest of his life; he was that kind