Unlikely Partners

By SQ Eads

Texas 1880: When Texas Ranger Colt McCutcheon picks up his final assignment it comes with a major complication. His job is to infiltrate and capture the deadly Palmer gang while baby-sitting a would-be gunslinger. Suddenly he's forced to ride on the wrong side of the law with Dru Ramsey, a beautiful, gun-toting female bent on revenge. His unwanted partner soon proves the pearl handled revolvers strapped on her hips aren’t decorations -- a renegade lawman and a fast gun. When the dust settles will Colt’s faith have stood the test? Will Dru trade in her guns? Is there a future for this unlikely pair?

What Readers Are Saying: "I fell in love with this book. After reading her first book, "Angels in Cowboy boots", I wanted to read more. She is so gifted in story telling and keeps you wanting more...and each story gives you a sense of goodness, but not the sappy kind that makes you think that we live in a sugar sweet world.....she is factual for a fiction writer. There is always a lesson, a real life lesson, to be learned in her stories...She can make you hurt from laughing and go thru a box of kleenex from the heartache and dispair...But throughout all of this, you learn and feel the hope and peace that God brings into these characters lives, just like in our non-fiction world..."

"If I could give this one 6 stars I would! This is the best novel from SQ so far. There are so many surprises in this book that keep you turning the pages. You think you have it figured out and then another twist keeps you in suspense. I don't want to say too much and spoil your fun. Don't miss this one--I'm giving it to all my friends."

• Language: English
• Publisher: SQ Eads
• Release date: Dec 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311722478

SQ Eads

SQ (Sunny) Eads, an award-winning author, was born and raised in southern Arizona. She received her higher education at Arizona State University in Tempe, Arizona and flew several years with American Airlines. Her love of Arizona and the mountains surrounding the state are evident in many of her novels. Sunny has lived in Arizona, New York, Pennsylvania, New Mexico and Texas. Inspiration for her characters comes from the hero she married, her two lovely daughters and especially her six wonderful grandchildren. Sunny believes that fiction portrays many of life's situations and that good fiction should be entertaining as well as educational, causing laughter and even a few tears. She hopes her readers find peace and joy in the midst of life's journey and eventually come to know the true giver of all life.Sunny is the author of several inspirational novels and her children's storybook, The Adventures of Ricky the Rock Squirrel. All are available at your favorite ebook distributor and also in print.

Book preview

Unlikely Partners

Copyright 2015 SQ Eads

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A man’s heart deviseth his way; but the Lord directeth his steps. Proverbs 16:9

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Acknowledgements

About SQ Eads

Other books by SQ Eads

Connect with SQ Eads

Chapter One

The location: Texas Ranger Headquarters

The year: 1880

The wind stopped. Having rearranged the landscape and sandblasted everything in its path, it birthed one last dust devil and died.

Texas Ranger Colt McCutcheon emerged like a phantom out of the last plume of settling dust. He slid wearily out of the saddle, tied his big bay gelding, Cannon, to the hitching rail and stepped up onto the wooden walk in front of the Texas Rangers Headquarters.

Knowing the Major and his persnickety ways, Colt jerked his hat off and slammed it against his pants and shirt. The dust rose in clouds thick enough to choke a buffalo as he simultaneously kicked his booted feet against the wall.

Good enough, he mumbled settling his hat back onto unruly brown curls.

Maybe he’d have time for a shave and a trim before heading out on his final assignment.

Final assignment. Just the thought sent a shaft of fear and doubt surging into his chest like flash flood waters in a dry arroyo. His resignation already rested on the Major’s desk. Am I doing the right thing? Ahh, ‘course I am. Anyway, it’s done.

Seventeen years was a long time and he’d grown comfortable in the job, but deep down in his soul, he wanted to put down roots. He was ready to settle in one spot. An added incentive sprang from his brother, Kenny, who had sorta given him a deadline or ultimatum. Colt chuckled. Kenny didn't admit to threatening but it had felt like it.

Change was hard though. He didn’t much like change and he sure didn’t like surprises. He rested better knowing what was coming next. Plan your steps and follow them. Now that he thought about it, he wondered how he could love being a Ranger. Considering the nature of the profession it ought to drive him loco. Nothing settled and secure about tracking and apprehending desperadoes. Alive one minute. Dead the next.

He pushed the door open and stooped slightly to keep from knocking off his hat. Don’t know why they can’t make a door big enough for a man to walk through! He caught the grin on the young sergeant’s face as he did a rapid search of the room. Habit was a strange thing. He didn’t even remember when he’d last walked into a room without scoping it out. Probably when he’d taken that bullet in the arm from Billy Daggert. Wonder how long ago that was?

The room was empty except for the sergeant’s paper-littered desk, two mismatched wooden chairs that he knew from experience were only slightly more comfortable than being staked out over an ant bed, and a narrow wooden bench that was currently occupied by a prone figure in black and white.

Go on in, Colt. The Major is waiting for you.

Colt’s arched eyebrow and questioning nod in the direction of the recumbent figure carved a satisfied smirk on the sergeant’s face.

The Major is waiting, sir, he repeated, refusing to answer Colt’s unspoken question.

Colt harrumphed as he opened the door to the Major’s office, stepped through and closed it again. Hey, John. That was a mighty strange message you sent. What’s the all-fired hurry?

The stocky man seated behind a large wooden desk laughed heartily. Never beat around the bush, do you Colt?

Nope, get straight to the point. Saves time.

Well, have a seat and I’ll try to fill you in without wasting too much of your time, he joked. It’s November 14th. You want to be home for Christmas. That gives me a little over a month to boss you around.

That’s right, John, so this better be a short assignment. Colt flipped an armless chair around and straddled it, propping his long arms across the top.

First, satisfy my curiosity and tell me who the fancy pants is out in the front office. At a quick glance he looks like he’s still wet behind the ears. You’re recruiting them mighty young, John. Bet he’s on the lean side of twenty.

John made a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh. I remember a young man who lied about his age and joined the Rangers before his seventeenth birthday.

Yeah, but I…

You what? You were big and tough? John snorted then continued before Colt could express his ire. After all these years you’ve learned it takes more than big and tough to survive in this job. Besides, Dru Ramsey is twenty six…and your partner on this assignment.

Not this side of heaven! Colt shifted in the chair, causing the wooden joints to creak in protest. What would I do with a prissy popinjay like that? Besides you know me. I work best alone.

Popinjay? laughed John. You still reading all that highfalutin’ nonsense you get from your aunt back East?

Yep! You oughta’ try it. You might get educated, teased Colt. His lips kicked up at the corners.

An answering grin curved John’s wide mouth. Since I’m uneducated and don’t know what a popinjay is and you do, that must make you the man for the job. You know all about them…you’ll know just how to work with one. Dru Ramsey is the key to this assignment. You’re partners or it won’t work. Besides plans are already underway.

Colt groaned. Maybe this is God’s way of helping me to walk away from this job without any regrets. Though playing nursemaid to a dandified fop isn’t exactly like going out in a blaze of glory!

John’s laughter filled the room. Thanks, Colt. I can always count on you for a laugh. Brightens my otherwise dreary day. He crossed to the door and pulled it open. Dru, will you come join us, please.

Colt cringed as John held the door for the black and white garbed dude. Come on, Lord, bail me out of this, please. Colt knew it wasn’t polite to stare, but this guy would draw more attention than a two-headed calf at a circus. Of medium height and as slender as the neck of a whiskey bottle, he was gussied up in black pants and a short vest and a ruffled white shirt that was so bright it hurt the eye. Colt shot a quick look down at his own dust-covered attire and wondered how this dude managed to arrive looking like he’d just stepped off one of them fliers advertising a Wild West show. The black boots were spit shined and the two-gun belt well oiled. Black leather rawhide snugged the holsters to each leg allowing the pearl-handled revolvers to rest comfortably within easy reach. It was hard to separate the wide-brimmed black hat from the overly long, straight black hair tied back with a short piece of black leather.

Black and white. Night and day. Colt pictured his own person in various shades of brown -- light brown, dirty brown, dark brown, mud brown, red-brown. He guessed that said a lot about his character. He considered himself even-tempered, calm and pretty laid back. It made him wonder if the stark contrast in the new man’s dress expressed his personality. Moody? Up one minute and down the next? Colt sure hoped not. His gaze slid to the man’s smooth jaw. Lord, he’s just a baby! Besides the guy stood out like a star atop a Christmas tree.

Colt pushed off his chair and waited as the man pulled snug-fitting black gloves from his hands, tucked them in his belt and stretched out a small, slim hand. Colt swallowed his disgust and repressed an urge to squeeze the dainty appendage like he would wring an old rooster’s neck. Better not or I’ll be havin’ to wipe his nose as well as baby-sit him.

Colt allowed his long, brown fingers to wrap around Ramsey’s before making eye contact. Blue eyes connected with blue eyes and Colt felt like he’d been gut-shot.

A woman! What in tarnation was John trying to pull?

Colt figured John had kept this tidbit of information a surprise knowing exactly how he would react. Well, he had never liked surprises and he especially didn’t like this one. He wasn’t pleased. Nope, not pleased at all.

Dropping Dru Ramsey’s hand like it was the wrong end of a hot branding iron, he stepped back and shot a steely glance at John.

John ignored Colt’s murderous gaze and pulled up another chair. Here, Dru. Have a seat and you can help me fill Colt in on our plans.

This isn’t the right assignment for me. Get yourself another man, John. Colt turned toward the door.

Colt! Don’t make me pull rank on you. John spoke in his scare the new recruits voice allowing steel to thread through his words. You’re still a Ranger and will be until the twenty fifth.

Colt’s jaw clenched at John’s tone. He stalled for a minute then admitted, if only to himself, that he owed John. He owed him a lot in fact. Accepting this final job wouldn’t begin to repay all the favors John had done for him through the years. Though his silence screamed his reluctance, he once again straddled the chair. He glared at John then shot a hard look at Ramsey’s placid face.

Blast it, John. I don't like this. Not one bit. It ain't right. What’s a woman doing dressed in that get-up? And what in the devil does she have to do with this assignment?

****

Dru hadn’t realized it would be this difficult. She knew she needed help in rounding up the Palmer gang. That’s why she came to the Texas Rangers' Headquarters. But if this was the best they could do she might have to go it alone.

While Major John Drummer rattled on about the bank jobs and stagecoach robberies the Palmer gang had successfully executed, Dru examined the man to her right -- the man drafted to be her partner. She had heard of him and he was reputed to be among the best. Jake, her former boss, had bragged about this man’s tracking abilities, his prowess with a gun and especially his ability to think on his feet. Jake had always told her that was what kept lawmen alive.

Dru swallowed the tears that threatened to clog her throat. All of Jake’s own finely honed abilities hadn’t been able to stop the bullet that entered his back and plowed through his heart. I’ll get them, Jake. I’ll make them pay. And I’ll do it alone if I have to.

She ran a practiced eye over the big man in the seat next to her. Younger than she’d expected, he probably was only a few years her senior. She’d been watching when he entered the office and had to duck to keep from knocking off his hat. He was certainly tall…but tall didn’t mean a lot. He’d just need a bigger rock to hide behind when the shooting started.

Though his reluctance to do this job was all too evident, he sat calmly, feet planted squarely on the floor, those big hands of his at rest on the chair back and he didn’t fidget. Dru shifted her gaze to the strong lines of his face, shaded by a very dusty hat. Having stick-straight hair herself, she rather liked the curls caressing his ear and nestling along the collar of his brown shirt. She had no idea how long it had been since the man had shaved, but the thick stubble shadowing his tanned face couldn’t hide the tenseness in his square jaw. If he didn’t relax he’d soon be picking cracked teeth out of his mouth.

Dru pulled her attention from Colt McCutcheon as the Major’s words penetrated her musings.

Dru, why don’t you tell Colt here all the details you’ve put together about the Palmers?

Before Dru could muster her thoughts, the sergeant poked his head in the door. Major, sorry to interrupt, but two men from the fort just arrived and need to meet with you immediately.

Tell them to hold their horses, Sergeant. I’ll get to them shortly. John stood and indicated to Dru and Colt to do the same. You two go get a drink and something to eat at the saloon. This won’t take long and you’ll both feel more like working if you have some grub in your bellies.

Without another word, Dru and Colt found themselves hustled out a side door and into a long, narrow alley.

Dru pulled her gloves on and smoothed them over her fingers before looking up into the confused face of Colt McCutcheon. She had yet to speak a word to the man, and for that matter, he’d not addressed any conversation to her. She took pity on his obvious state of confusion. After all, women, or at least ladies, did not dress in pants and wear guns and they certainly didn’t frequent saloons.

Mr. McCutcheon?

Dru knew as soon as she spoke that the usual question would come and it did.

What’s wrong with your voice?

A crushed voice box, Mr. McCutcheon. So you see, I not only dress like a man, but even sound like one. I no longer trill like a meadowlark but croak like a bullfrog. Dru recognized the string of bitterness threading through her words and sought to change the subject. Come on, I for one could use a drink and some food.

She choked back a laugh when he launched a look at her that clearly said she had sprouted horns and a forked tail. Dru’s boots kicked up little puffs of dust as she strode down the alley and nimbly jumped onto the wooden walkway. She took a couple steps in the direction of the saloon wondering if he’d follow. In two long-legged strides he caught up with her, hawked and spit into the street.

Are you a chewer of tobacco, Mr. McCutcheon?

A swift twist of his head in her direction accompanied his abrupt answer. No! Why? Are you? His deep voice escalated several notches as if expecting an affirmative answer.

No, she chuckled. I merely wanted to know if I would need to watch where I stepped.

A grunt preceded his words. Lady, dressed in that getup, you’d better watch your every step!

You don’t like my outfit, Mr. McCutcheon?

Nope. And quit calling me Mr. Much as I hate it, I know when I’ve been roped and hog-tied. Though I don’t know what this job entails, I imagine we’re in it together so you may as well start calling me Colt.

Thank you, Colt. Please call me Dru. It is short for Drucilla but it also sounds like a man’s name. And that is what we want people to think.

Dru continued when she saw his quick glance that seemed to say Not a chance. There’s every likelihood people will see me as a young man. Don’t you agree I look like a fledgling gunslinger out to make a name for himself? And as for my clothing…my attracting attention is part of the plan.

Colt’s grunted answer was unintelligible.

And what could be more normal than an ambitious gunslinger and a renegade Ranger riding together?

Colt stopped short and turned to face her. Hands on his hips, he bent to put his face in hers, nose to nose. Now, wait just a minute! I am not a renegade Ranger and though I don’t like this assignment one bit, I don’t plan to become one.

Dru locked gazes with Colt. I’m sorry, Mr. McCutcheon…ah, Colt, but our reputations precede us. Word is already being spread throughout the area. By the time we get to Amarillo the Palmer gang will have heard all about us. They’ll be counting headstones of the men I’ve gunned down and calculate just how fast I am. Details of the innovative ways you’ve robbed and cheated honest folks through the years in your guise as a lawman will be like tasty tidbits of tough beef chewed over and over around the campfire. We’re a perfect fit. Perfect fit for an ambitious gang…a fast gun and a man with ideas. Hopefully they’ll be begging us to join them.

****

Colt listened to the raspy alto voice. She strung words together like the authors of the books his aunt sent him. Interesting. But when he looked at the smile curving Dru’s lips he felt a chill run up his spine. He hadn’t liked this from the start and the more he learned the more it didn’t sit in his craw quite right.

At the rate things were going, he doubted he’d be home for Christmas like he’d planned. He might even be dead by Christmas if his job was to get the Palmer gang…with the help of this dressed up female pretending to be a fast gun.

Early on, he’d learned there was always someone faster. It took only one bullet to change the name of the fastest gun.

Lord, how am I supposed to join up with and capture a gang of killers accompanied by a woman gussied up like a gunslinger? I don’t want to do this, Lord. I want to go home.

Colt chided himself for sounding like a six-year-old, but he’d promised his younger brother, Kenny, this would be his last year as a Ranger. When he made that promise he’d planned to join Kenny on the ranch they’d bought together when Kenny was wounded and had to resign from the Rangers himself. Colt sent most of his pay to Kenny and his wife, Patty. They’d been tending and building up the ranch all these years. Now they were ready for Colt to come do his share of the physical work. Lord, this is the craziest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I’ve got to trust you. Don’t let me down now.

Colt slanted a glance at the slim figure walking beside him. He stopped at the swinging doors to the saloon. From the determined look on her smooth face he seriously doubted he’d have any luck dissuading her, but he had to give it a try.

Why don’t you go home and let me handle this alone? It can’t be so important to catch the Palmer gang that you get yourself killed?

"Two years ago they killed my father and left me for dead. Sheriff Jake Purcell found me, nursed me back to