The Abduction of Miss Jenny Chandler

By Teri Thackston

Jenny Chandler enjoys a life with no more pressing problem than what to wear to the next cotillion, and she’s content to remain “Daddy’s little girl”. But when she meets Texas Ranger John Grayling, she starts to think that growing up might not be so bad. Unfortunately, recently hurt by love, Gray swears off women and vows to devote himself to his job. But when Jenny is kidnapped by bandits and Gray is captured trying to rescue her, the young woman’s spirit tests his vow.

The bandit leader recognizes Gray as valuable barter to convince a renegade Comanche chief—whose son Gray killed—to help hijack an Army gold ship. Knowing that death awaits him, Gray is torn between escaping with Jenny and staying to learn more of the bandit’s plan.

Gray falls for Jenny, but can he trust her when every other woman in his life has failed him? Jenny loves Gray, but can she break through the barrier around his heart? Can passion’s fire ignite lasting love before evil plays its smoldering hand?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teri Thackston
• Release date: Dec 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463392003

Teri Thackston

Teri Thackston is a native Texan and life-long lover of storytelling. Her award-winning novels cover the spectrum of romance, from suspense to paranormal to historical. Her very first novel—a blatant rip-off of the popular television series Get Smart—was written when she was at the wise old age of eleven years and will never—to the delight of readers everywhere—see the light of publication. Her more original works are seeing that light today and she hopes that fact will delight those same readers.

Book preview

The Abduction of

Miss Jenny Chandler

by

Teri Thackston

The Abduction of Miss Jenny Chandler

Copyright 2017

Teri Thackston

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or used in whole or part by any means without the written permission of the author ([e-mail]). That means that anyone who purchases the book—or receives it as a gift—may not then distribute any copies to other people without receiving written permission from the author.

All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, with or without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.00.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons—living or dead—or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Cover Design Copyright 2017 Teri Thackston

Base images for cover design:

Young woman

© Kiselev Andrey Valerevich Shutterstock.com photo ID 349584770

https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/renaissance-style-beautiful-young-woman-lush-349584770

Young man

© 4x6 iStockphoto.com photo ID 546421592

http://www.istockphoto.com/photo/cowboy-in-mountain-gm546421592-98638469

The Abduction of Miss Jenny Chandler is a 2nd edition (revised), publication and copyright

by Teri Thackston 2017

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Original Electronic Book Publication: August 2007

by Cerridwen Press (Ellora’s Cave)

Original Copyright© 2007 Teri Thackston

Original ISBN 978-0-9856867-7-2

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Dedication

To Granny, who had an artistic heart.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction—

Colt is owned by the New Colt Holding Corporation

Chapter One

Texas, December 31, 1857

Now, Irish, don’t get your temper up.

The masculine voice flowed into Jenny’s thorny trap, sending an odd quiver down her spine. But she didn’t dare move. Staring into the pink eyes of the rabbit that had led her into this predicament she prayed the animal wouldn’t bolt and draw the attention of the couple arguing beyond the brush that held her captive.

Darlin’, you know I was just doin’ my job.

The smooth Texas drawl crawled down inside Jenny’s belly and curled up like a puppy on a warm rug. But she put that sensation down to nausea brought on by fear that the couple on the grassy hillside might discover her humiliating position.

A visitor to the San Antonio area, Jenny barely knew the woman and she’d never met her smooth-talking companion. Would they believe she’d been doing her sisterly duty or simply assume she was clumsy? They couldn’t know that five-year-old Sarah had cried when her pet rabbit wriggled out of her arms, forcing Jenny to chase it down. The impudent pet led her over hill and dale until a misstep tumbled her into this thorny bush.

Now, reaching slowly, Jenny paused and then grabbed the bundle of fur. It uttered a tiny bleat as she dragged it into the crook of her neck. Surrounded by darkness and warmth, it grew still.

So did Jenny. The brief movement had tangled her hair even tighter in the bush. Worse, she now had an unobstructed view of the arguing couple through the lower branches.

Your job? Blarney!

Jenny watched Colleen Irish O’Dell toss her head. Auburn curls flew over one shoulder of her blue gingham dress as she faced her companion. Even from that distance, Jenny saw flecks of gold glitter in the woman’s emerald eyes.

Ye’re fonder of that dirty band of Rangers than ye are of me! Irish complained, settling her hands on lush hips that made Jenny feel that hers were boyishly straight in comparison. Why, ye’ve been here ten whole minutes and ye haven’t even kissed me!

His back to Jenny, the man answered, I’ll kiss you now.

His low, suggestive voice vibrated deep inside Jenny’s belly, intensifying the warmth that coiled there. The sensation was pleasant and disturbing at the same time. She found herself forgetting her embarrassing passion and just wishing he would turn so that she could see his face. At nineteen, she might be content to remain her Daddy’s little girl. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have at least a passing interest in men. At the very least, she deserved to know what this man looked like after suffering through this humiliation.

Every neighbor within fifty miles is at your ranch, Irish. I figured you’d rather we say hello in private. Topping six feet, the man had a loose, easy frame. Dusty buckskin britches clothed his long legs, a short leather coat his broad shoulders. Black hair escaped the confines of a faded hat to curl over the collar of the coat and a single gun hung low on his right hip. Behind his back, he held a small satin-covered box.

I brought you a Christmas present, he temped in his silky drawl. I know it’s a week late, but I figured you’d want it anyway.

He brought the pretty red box forward and Jenny saw Irish’s green eyes melt with pleasure.

Taking the box, the older woman removed the lid and then released a gentle gasp. Oh! It’s a beauty!

Overwhelmed by curiosity, Jenny stared as Irish reached into the box and drew forth a froth of pink and white lace.

Oh. Sighing again, Irish tossed the box away.

Whipping off his hat, Gray grabbed her, bent her back over one arm and kissed her. Jenny could see part of his face now. Strong and lean, his jaw flexed and tightened as his mouth consumed Irish the way a starving man might consume his first meal in days.

Jenny’s face burned. She’d seen her brother, Tabor, kiss a girl back home in Louisiana. But that scene had been mild in comparison to this. This made her insides ache in a wicked way.

A deliciously wicked way.

Gray raised his head and Jenny glimpsed a sinful grin that intensified the ache inside her body.

Let me put it on you, he said to Irish. Then he took his gift and knelt before her. Hands slipping beneath the woman’s skirt, he gripped one slender ankle and removed her shoe. Tossing it aside, he slipped the bit of lace over her foot.

Jenny’s mouth dropped open as she recognized the gift as a fancy garter. That an unmarried lady would accept such a thing from a man, that she would allow him to slide it upward along her calf…

In spite of the winter chill, Jenny found herself longing for one of her mother’s silk and lace fans.

Irish laughed and drew her skirt higher as Gray eased the garter over her knee. Gripping her thigh, he stood and pulled her close. As his mouth covered hers again, Irish went limp.

Trapped beneath the bush, Jenny trembled. She knew enough about love—her parents were French, after all—to know what was going on. And at home, she’d overheard her brothers talking and her parents had shared kisses, an occasional caress, but nothing like this.

Reappearing from beneath the skirt, Gray’s hand slid around Irish’s waist. She moaned and pressed closer to him. When Gray raised his head, Jenny could still see only a rugged profile dominated by a lazy, suggestive smile. She held her breath, hoping he would turn further and reveal at least the color of his eyes.

Irish stepped back from the tall man. Her breasts rose and fell quickly and, despite Jenny’s inexperience, she could well imagine the emotional and physical turmoil such an embrace could evoke.

I promise never t’wear it fer Isaac, Irish said, straightening her dress.

Isaac? Displeasure rumbled in Gray’s voice. Henley?

Aye. Stepping around him, Irish wandered up the hill.

Jenny tried to make herself smaller but it was impossible with her hair tangled so tightly.

I’ve agreed t’marry him, Irish went on.

Gray stood where she’d left him, his back rigid. When did you make this decision? he asked over his shoulder.

The day I met him. Lifting her skirt, Irish adjusted the garter. He owns a bank and I need money t’breed me mares.

What about us?

From her hiding place, Jenny heard Gray’s anger. She heard pain, too and wondered how—after such an embrace—Irish could so casually tell him that she planned to marry another man.

I’m willin’ t’continue as we are, Irish said. A woman has needs as much as a man. I know he canna fill them as you—

The rabbit scrabbled suddenly across Jenny’s shoulder, sharp nails batting her face. Startled, she jerked and the thorny branches that held her hair snapped. Abruptly freed, Jenny tumbled down the hill, bumping and bruising herself to an abrupt stop.

Saints alive, ‘tis Miss Jennifer Chandler!

Jenny opened her eyes at Irish’s exclamation and saw that she’d rolled to a stop at Gray’s feet. Mortified, she pushed herself slowly up to her knees. She kept her head down and prayed that God would strike her dead before she had to meet the man’s gaze.

But God ignored her prayer.

Evening’, miss. I’m Captain John Grayling. Texas Ranger. May I be of assistance?

Jenny couldn’t answer. A Texas Ranger. What stories her Cousin Ben had told her of the brave lawmen since she and her family had arrived at his family ranch. Oh, to have been caught eavesdropping by such a man!

Miss Chandler is Travis Chandler’s niece, Irish explained above her. She and her family are visiting from New Orleans.

Welcome to Texas, Miss Chandler.

Jenny knew she had to meet his gaze in order to recover any shred of her dignity. Slowly, she looked up his long legs and past the well-oiled gun belt. He’d caught Sarah’s rabbit by the ears and his strong hand set a strong brown contrast against the white fur of the wriggling creature.

Mouth dry, Jenny lifted her gaze higher. He wore a butter-yellow shirt beneath his coat, open at the throat to reveal sun-browned flesh dusted with black curls. His neck was strong, his jaw rugged, his lower lip still moist from kissing Irish.

Memory of the kiss brought blood rushing to Jenny’s face and something tightened deep inside her. Clenching her fists, she forced her gaze up those last few inches.

A sense of fate swept away the last of her composure as the palest blue eyes she’d ever seen returned her stare with unnerving intensity. Coal black lashes fringed those orbs, softening them to gray in the lowering light of day. But the fire burning at their core could not be softened, for it was a fire of passion and pain.

I… Jenny cleared her throat as she struggled to her feet. My sister…I…

As her words and tongue didn’t seem inclined to cooperate with each other, she gave up. She’d never seen a more ruggedly handsome man in her life, never been so swept away by masculinity. The sensation terrified her.

He handed the rabbit to her.

Ye look as if ye had quite a time catchin’ the beastie. Irish appraised Jenny with twinkling eyes. I doubt yer ma will be pleased at the state of that bonnie frock.

Looking down at her dress Jenny finally let out a little of that groan. Laurette Chandler insisted on good grooming and this dress had been a Christmas gift from Jenny’s father. Now, snagged and dirty, the green velvet gown and matching cape looked like discarded rags. Irish was right. Jenny was in for a first-class scolding.

Sarah really cried when the rabbit ran away. She used one hand to close her cape over the ruined dress while she clutched the wriggling rabbit in the other. Her face burned hotter. Where was the grace she’d worked so hard to develop? The poise that should carry her through this embarrassment? For Heaven’s sake, she was nineteen years old!

Gray!

Jenny looked up as Billy O’Dell charged down the hill, one hand holding a dusty hat on his carrot-colored hair. Excitement brightened his freckled face as he ran up to his sister and Gray. Green eyes darting toward Jenny, he bobbed his head.

Beg yer pardon, Miss Jenny, he quickly said, Ireland not quite as strong in his voice as in his sister’s. But there’s Comanche savages at Mason McEwan’s place!

Fear jolted Jenny, quelling her embarrassment.

Scooping his hat from the ground, Gray settled it on his head. McEwan? How far?

Six miles west. Men are gatherin’ at our place. I told Ben to saddle Fleet for you.

I’ll come, too, Irish said, retrieving her shoe.

I’m thinkin’ not, Billy answered sharply, using the same phrase his sister had used earlier.

Everyone seemed to forget Jenny and she took advantage of their distraction to study the Ranger secretly. Since Billy’s arrival, Gray had grown even more masculine and authoritative.

And dangerous.

That danger shone in his shadowed eyes. It was exciting and forbidden, primal and masculine in a way that would appeal to a woman like Irish, but terrify a less experienced young lady. Jenny had certainly experienced some form of terror when she’d first met those pale eyes. It still shuddered deep inside her. But she’d detected something else in his eyes, too. Something he’d tried to hide. Vulnerability.

As brother and sister stared each other down, Jenny watched the play of emotion across Gray’s face. She knew what the pain of rejection looked like. The summer just past, she’d seen it first-hand in Cousin Ben. While visiting her family in New Orleans, Ben had fallen in love with one of Jenny’s friends. But the object of his affection had thought him merely an amusing diversion.

Memory of her cousin’s pain made Jenny sympathetic to Gray. Although hurt by Irish’s announcement, he made a valiant effort to conceal his hurt.

You go back to the house, darlin’. His tone soothed, deceptively mild as he stroked a finger along Irish’s cheek. Help keep the other women calm.

Catching his hand in both of her hers, Irish pressed it to her bosom. Be careful, Gray. And take care of me brother.

She rose on her toes to kiss him. But Gray made it brief. His gaze flickered toward Jenny and, embarrassed at being caught watching him again, she ducked her head.

Take Miss Chandler with you, Gray ordered and then he and Billy turned up the hill.

Irish slipped on her shoe. Then she picked up the satin box and stood for a moment studying the pretty container in the fading light.

Holding the rabbit against her stomach, Jenny tried not to show the fear beating inside her as she asked, Shouldn’t we hurry to the house?

Yer bonnie cousin Ben hasn’t been fillin’ yer head with fables of savages, has he? Blue eyes twinkled above Irish’s smile. Don’t worry, lass. The Comanche are most likely miles away and Gray stands between us and them.

Lifting her skirts, Irish started up the hill in the direction the men had gone. Relieved, Jenny hurried after her.

Irish darted a glance at her. ‘Tis a shame about yer lovely dress.

Jenny shrugged. Mother may be able to salvage it.

She should see t’those scratches on yer face as well.

Lifting her free hand to one cheek, Jenny found several scratches and frowned. She must look terrible. And she could only imagine the bruises that must be forming on her knees and elbows from her tumble.

Irish laughed. Ye don’t look such a fright as ye think. Ye look like a young girl who’s grown a bit wild in her play.

Jenny straightened her spine. I’m nineteen.

Irish swept her with a skeptical gaze. I’d have taken ye for younger. Her eyes turned thoughtful. Ever been with a man?

I’ve had a few callers.

‘Tis not what I meant. Irish paused before asking, Yer mother’s told ye what t’expect on yer weddin’ night?

Oh. Hugging the rabbit, Jenny stared at the ground as they climbed the hill. I don’t think—

What Gray and I were doin’. Well, ‘tis natural for a lass t’be curious and I’m not ashamed of our relationship.

Jenny was curious but uncomfortable with the conversation. It was one thing to discuss such intimacies with her mother or girlfriends. But she remained still enough of her father’s little girl to want to avoid the subject with Irish. And wasn’t that the crux of her current inner conflict? Her mother urged her to step into womanhood but her father wanted her to stay a child. Jenny didn’t know, herself, what she wanted.

Well, she knew one thing. She’d seen the light in her mother’s eyes when her parents kissed. She wanted some day to marry a man who could put that light in her eyes.

She and Irish reached the top of the hill. Pecan trees lined a path down to the ranch house, their shadows lengthening as the sun set. Within their branches, jackdaws chattered in discordant conversation. Far dryer and paler than the winter landscape of her lush New Orleans home, the Texas hills rolled far into the distance. Nearer, lights from the O’Dell house glimmered with inviting warmth. Across the evening air, Jenny heard the voices of men preparing to ride after the Indian raiders.

A chill shivered through her. Would any of those men die tonight? Or was Irish right and the Indians were already far away?

Irish slipped an arm around Jenny’s shoulders. A woman’s got to think of her future and often must settle for a loveless marriage in order to attain other things.

Such as? Jenny asked. Curiosity won over discomfort and fear now that they walked within sight of safety.

In my case, ‘tis money. Ye see, I’ve worked hard since me da passed on, t’build the finest breedin’ ranch in Texas. ‘Twas Father’s dream and I aim t’see it come true.

But you already have a beautiful herd.

Unfortunately I’ve also a beautiful pile of debt. If I don’t come up with a great deal of money, I may lose me mares.

I’m sorry.

Don’t be. I’ve Banker Henley twisted ‘round me pinky. She smiled slyly and crooked her little finger in the air. Once we’re married, I’ll have all the money I need.

And Captain Grayling?

Well, of course it would be a shame t’lose such a fine, strappin’ man just because I married another.

Jenny remembered the pain in Gray’s eyes. Forgive me for saying so, Miss O’Dell, but I don’t believe you should rate Captain Grayling only on the basis of his sensuality.

Stopping abruptly, Irish faced Jenny. Her green eyes sparkled. Sensuality, is it? And where did ye learn such a word?

Well, my— Jenny broke off as the other woman’s eyes shifted and widened. Turning, Jenny saw a herd of horses racing across a nearby pasture, pursued by three riders.

Bloody thieves! Irish shouted, her beautiful face suddenly livid. They won’t get away with my mares!

Whirling toward the ranch, Irish led Jenny only three steps before a large silhouette lunged from beneath the shadows of the pecan trees. Two strong arms surrounded Irish and she was tossed over a man’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. White teeth flashed as he tilted his head toward the western sun and then Jenny’s cry was silenced by a sweaty palm from behind.

* * * * *

Leading a group of thirty men from the back of his stallion, Fleet, Gray had trouble keeping his mind on the fight ahead. Instead, as the group galloped over the rolling hills, his thoughts strayed toward the women in his life—his mother and sister who’d been murdered by Comanches, Scarlett who had scorned him for the son of an alcalde, Irish who’d done the same for the banker.

He’d had it. Loving women hurt too much.

Gray tried to focus on assessing his forces. Billy O’Dell and Travis Chandler flanked him with Travis’ son, Ben, close by. Gray knew he could count on the Chandlers in a fight. But he didn’t like taking both men in one family into what could be a bloody battle. Given a choice he’d have ordered Travis to stay behind and taken Ben, the best sharpshooter around. But pride ran strong in Travis and there’d been no time for argument.

He looked at Ben. All the Chandlers had thick black hair, fine features and blue eyes. But Ben’s eyes were violet like his cousin’s. His voice had the same soft huskiness Gray had heard in the few words young Jenny had spoken back on the hill.

He lifted one corner of his mouth. Hiding her emotions was obviously not one of Jenny Chandler’s talents. But deception was a learned trait. Gray had no doubt the lovely child would quickly blossom into womanhood in all its glory and deceit.

His half-smile vanished. A pretty face masked many deceits. The face Irish wore had been flawless. Gray had believed she shared his dream to tame this wild land that had drawn his parents from Tennessee and hers from Ireland. This cruel land that had killed them all and would probably kill him some day.

He clenched his fists around the reins. He was tired of killing. But he couldn’t just walk away from the life that had chosen him. Especially now that he had nothing to walk toward.

McEwan’s place is past that next rise, Billy called out.

Reaching the top of the hill, Gray and the men reined to a halt. A small house stood below, wheat-colored grass rippling around it. A man chopped wood in the yard while three children played with as many spotted pups around him.

Gray frowned at the peaceful scene. That McEwan?

Billy nodded, scowling. The other men grumbled and the air thickened with mist from the breaths of their mounts.

Gray’s temper thinned. Who gave the alarm?

Billy glanced down the line. Rafe? he called out. Rafe Tucker, what the hell’s goin’ on?

A lanky rider stepped free of the line and eased his horse toward Gray and Billy. Cheek swollen with a chaw of tobacco, he spat an ugly yellow stream at the ground. I got word from some Mexican, he drawled. Said he worked fer McEwan.

Gray immediately disliked the man. A man who raises a false alarm ain’t worth shootin’.

Tucker shifted his chaw to the other cheek. Take it up with that Mexican.

You point him out to me and I will.

Tucker glanced around and then lifted one narrow shoulder. Sorry. Don’t see ‘im.

Gray looked at Billy. Make sure that ranch is secured.

Billy nodded. Come on, Ben.

As the younger men rode down the hill, Travis Chandler eased his horse between Gray and Rafe. Do you know the name of the man who gave the alarm, Tucker?

Nope. He came runnin’ up when I was relievin’ myself in them woods near Miss O’Dell’s barn. Tucker’s mouth twisted into an oily smile. Caught me with m’pants down."

Travis frowned. What did he say?

His story was kinda hard t’follow, him speakin’ half-English, half-Mexican and bein’ hysterical t’boot. But I got he was from McEwan’s ranch and that a hundred Comanche was burnin’ the place. I didn’t stop t’ask him t’prove it.

You’re sure he said the attack was on the McEwan ranch?

Tucker spat on the ground again. I ain’t deaf.

At that moment, Billy returned with Ben. His horse skidded to a halt near Gray and Billy’s eyes glowed with anger. McEwan says he’s seen no sign of Indians. No Mexicans work for him, either.

I don’t like this, Travis said.

Grim-faced, Gray turned his horse. Neither do I.

* * * * *

Full dark met them at the O’Dell ranch, where Travis Chandler’s brother, Curtis, waited on the lantern-lit porch with his wife and sister-in-law. Grim fear darkened the man’s face.

Jenny and Irish have vanished, Curtis said as Gray and the others dismounted.

What d’ye mean vanished? Anger further ruddied Billy’s young face. Didn’t they come back t’the house after we left?

Lantern light and emotion darkened Curtis’ eyes. I looked for them as soon as you rode out.

His wife, Laurette, gripped Curtis’ arm. They’re nowhere to be found, she said, her voice thick with worry.

Curtis found this on the hill. Travis’ fair-haired wife, Tess, stepped forward. The satin box Gray had given Irish nestled in her outstretched hand. The mares are gone, too.

Damn! Billy spun toward his horse.

Gray caught the young man’s arm. Slow down and think.

Billy shook off Gray’s hand. That bloody Mexican started a rumor of Indian attack so we’d leave the ranch free for his friends t’sack. They must’ve taken Irish and Miss Chandler for good measure. I’m pickin’ up their trail.

Or you’ll destroy it by stumbling around in the dark. I’ll do the tracking. Turning to Fleet, Gray quickly checked his saddle cinches.

As the Chandler men moved to re-mount, Tess caught her husband’s arm. Travis, please be careful.

"I won’t take you and Ben this time," Gray said.

Travis nodded. Ben, stay here with your mother.

Ben’s violet eyes snapped defiance as he stepped up beside Gray. I’m younger than you, Pa.

Stay with your wife, Gray said