Wrangler Dragon Page 2

  And when she lifted the lid, a small, round, tarnished silver coin glinted up at her, heads side up.

  But that wasn’t the part that interested her…

  Not wanting to make a mistake in such a critical moment, she pulled out a jewelry pad from behind the counter and then put on gloves so she wouldn’t get any smudges on the priceless piece of history.

  She took the coin out, hands quivering with anticipation, and turned it over.

  On the back, there was a thick, long gash. The inside of the gash was tarnished nearly black with the passage of time, and Billie didn’t even realize her mouth was hanging open as she just caught her breath at the sight of the thing.

  The dragon’s talon. The famous coin that belonged to the legendary gunslinger Tucker C. Thompson, otherwise known as the “Quickdraw Dragon.”

  And it finally belonged to her!

  She hopped up and down, then did a little dance in a circle, pumping her arms up and down at the realization that all her dreams were finally coming to fruition. Dreams that everyone had said were too big for a small-town girl like her. Dreams that were too lofty for someone whose family only owned a small antique shop in a sleepy city in the middle of nowhere in Texas.

  An older man she hadn’t known was in the store, who’d been browsing in the antique furniture section, glanced over at her with a disparaging frown before leaving the store as quietly as he’d come in.

  No matter. With the help of this coin, she was going to put her family’s business, her town, and the legend of the Quickdraw Dragon on the map!

  She quickly pulled out the rest of the paperwork that came folded inside the box, examining it. Then she picked the coin back up, looking it over on both sides, searching for signs that it was a dupe.

  But it was hard to dupe such a telltale gash on the backside. And the year, though faded by years of wear and tarnish, was still visible, dating the coin back to long before the Wild West was tamed, back around the time her family had settled in Texas generations ago.

  The coin, which was the final piece in her Tucker Thompson collection she’d been putting together her whole life now, had appeared suddenly at an online auction site. Apparently, though she’d been searching every rummage sale, estate sale, and flea market this side of the Mississippi, it had been found when an old pond had been dredged to make space for a construction site. A worker had found it and put it online, not knowing what an important piece of history they’d unwittingly found.

  Granted, she hadn’t been the only one bidding on the coin. Dozens of unknown collectors jumped at the idea of picking it up as well. Only a smart last-minute bid that had turned out lucky had gotten her the prize, even though it had cost half of her precious savings to acquire it.

  She took in another breath, just in awe that all the stories she’d read, all the legends about Thompson’s coin, had actually been true. Carefully, she put it in a thick coin protector, then set it in a little custom display case she and her father had handmade together a week ago, practically the moment after the auction had been won.

  Now, with the other half of her savings, all she had to do was set up the Quickdraw Dragon museum she’d always dreamt of making and put this little beauty right in the middle of it so everyone could hear about a legendary gunslinger that got way too little attention for how awesome and pivotal a person he’d been in helping tame the lawless West.

  She was practically staring down at the coin, eyes wide, when she heard the bell at the front of the store ding.

  Get back to work and stop obsessing about that coin, Billie! she thought as she pried herself from the display case to greet the customer.

  After all, the museum wasn’t built just yet. And they needed every dollar they could get to make it happen.

  “Welcome to Phil’s Antiques and Other Things!” she called out as she looked up.

  Her jaw dropped for a second time in the last five minutes as her gaze settled on the towering, built stranger who’d just walked in.

  The man was almost handsome enough to make her entirely forget about the coin for a moment. He wore a white Stetson and a leather vest over a blue shirt with perfectly fitted blue jeans. He was tall too, over six feet, and had piercing green eyes and golden-blond hair the color of wheat at harvesttime that came down to his collar.

  He tipped his hat and smiled at her, and the force of his incredible, almost otherworldly beauty nearly bowled her over.

  Whoever he was, he was practically the ideal man.

  That was if she was actually interested in pursuing any men right now. Which she was not.

  “Howdy, darlin’,” he said from across the store, and for a moment, it looked like he’d even had the audacity to wink at her.

  “I’d love to… I mean, can I help you with anything?” she stuttered, shaking her head. Her tongue felt numb in her mouth, but that was probably all the adrenaline from waiting for the coin all morning.

  “Ain’t this a nice place?” he said, amused as he strolled through the nearest aisle, giving her a glance of taut, muscular thighs and expensive-looking cowboy boots.

  Everything about this wrangler said “player,” and her dumbfounded initial reaction cooled as she watched him cautiously.

  Any man dressed that well gave her suspicions.

  Granted, none she’d ever seen had been remotely this handsome. Not even close. This guy could be a male model. Heck, he probably was.

  “What brings you to Phil’s Things this afternoon?” she asked, wishing he would leave so she could go back to looking at her precious, invaluable coin.

  “Just browsin’. Weather’s been nice lately, hasn’t it?” He gave her a charming smile she was certain worked on everything—man or woman—that walked on two legs, but she wasn’t affected by it.

  Nor by his muscles. Or his gorgeous face. Or his wide shoulders that led down to trim hips and powerful legs that strode around like he owned everything already. Not. At. All.

  “It has.” She paused, watching him peruse the antique lamps. “Can’t say I’ve seen you in here before. You from around here, mister?”

  He nodded. “Not too far.”

  Though, that could easily be a lie. He looked like someone from the big city, with a big wallet and privilege the likes she and her family would never, ever know in their whole lives.

  “I like to visit places I ain’t seen before on my days off.”

  She had to admit, though, his drawl was pure Texas, smooth and honeyed like distilled whiskey that warmed her veins even as her suspicion of him grew.

  “Is there anything you see to your likin’?” she asked.

  He looked up from the lamps, and she felt a jolt of something strange as his gaze settled on hers for a long moment. Almost too long.

  Then he shrugged and lazily made his way up to the front desk, moving past the antique pistols and knives, past the trading cards, up to the register she was standing behind. “Not yet. But I’m still browsin’.”

  Her knees got strangely wobbly as he got closer, his expression as calm as a clear spring day, and she wondered if this strange, sexy man somehow got off on teasing single store clerks in remote antique shops in tiny Texas towns or something.

  It wouldn’t be the strangest thing she’d ever heard of. Not by a long shot.

  He approached the jewelry case, then peered over at the small, custom glass box where her coin was sitting. Billie stood up proudly, a little satisfied that the first person to see her new acquisition would be this handsome, mysterious person.

  To her utter surprise, the stranger’s eyes narrowed on the silver coin, and his lips pursed just slightly. And when his gaze flew from the coin to hers, it was even greener than she remembered, like bright emerald beneath the noonday sun. She’d never seen a person with eyes like that before.

  “Where did you get this?” He still had his drawl, but his tone was serious, completely devoid of the overwhelming charm he’d come in with.

  She felt it down in her toes.
>
  Instead of melting right there on the spot, though, she stood up a little straighter. “It’s the dragon’s talon coin that belonged to the Quickdraw Dragon.”

  “I know what it is,” he said.

  “Oh.” That was a first. Any person not from around here she’d mentioned Thompson to just got a lost, confused look in their eyes before asking if she was sure she wasn’t talking about some other Wild West legend.

  Maybe this male model liked rare coins that belonged to obscure Wild West legends too.

  She doubted it.

  He leaned forward, placing an arm on the glass as he rested against the counter. He had big hands, and she could see calluses that proved he at least did something other than looking pretty.

  Interesting.

  “How much?” he asked, not breaking his gaze from hers.

  “Excuse me?”

  “How much for the coin? I want it. After all, it’s on display in your store, ain’t it?”

  She would have gasped at the presumptuousness of this cowboy, but she was the one to blame here. After all, she hadn’t yet put up the little “Display Only” sign she’d had made.

  “It’s not for sale. After all, it’s one-of-a-kind. There are only a few of these coins in existence, and only one of them belonged specifically to Tucker C. Thompson. It’s priceless.”

  He relaxed a little, and when he grinned at her, she could tell he was attempting to use all of his charm on her.

  Nothing could make her sell it, though.

  “Certainly, we can come to some sort of agreement. I ain’t walking out of here without that, and I’m certain your store could use a little… capital.” As if to make a point, he looked around the dilapidated, barely profitable store that had been her second home her whole life.

  “I said it ain’t for sale.”

  “There must be something a gorgeous woman like yourself could use more than some old coin that nobody cares about.”

  “I care about it. And no, there isn’t anything you could tempt me with, Mister…”

  “Clancy. Clancy’s my name.” And that look he gave her almost made her wonder if such a beautiful man could tempt her after all.

  No. Whatever secrets he had that made him think he could win her over, she had secrets of her own.

  Nothing would make her budge.

  “For the last time, there ain’t a thing on God’s green earth you could offer that would make me give this up. Sorry to disappoint you, Mister Clancy.”

  “Just Clancy.” He stared down at the coin again, then looked at her with an unreadable expression. After a moment, he stood up from the counter to his full, impressive height and shrugged. “Ah, well, can’t say I didn’t try. I hope that little thing brings you more luck than whoever owned it before you.”

  Though, if he was talking about Thompson or someone else in that moment, she wasn’t sure.

  Clancy looked over his shoulder at her and tipped his pristine hat one more time, then made for the exit. She saw his profile through the big front windows for a second as he strolled away, whistling to himself, before he disappeared entirely, leaving her with a strange empty feeling.

  She’d probably never see him again.

  Oh well, she told herself as she busied herself with setting up other Tucker Thompson relics she’d acquired and placing them around the display case for a few minutes. The store was quiet until some time later when the bell dinged again.

  She looked up, half expecting Clancy again, when instead she saw five rough-looking men coming in. They were wearing worn denim and had beat-up jackets, and the one in front had a long scar over his face that went from his eyebrow to the corner of his lips.

  Maybe they were just looking for an old settee or something?

  She felt her nerves freeze, though, as all five came straight up to the front counter, and the one at the front looked down at the coin.

  “There it is,” the one with the scar said with a rough, dry voice.

  Then he looked at her with a grin that was missing more than a few teeth. “We’re going to need that from you.”

  “I don’t know who y’all are, but this specific piece isn’t for sale,” she replied, and all five of their gazes settled on her.

  The man’s grin fell to a grimace.

  “We weren’t asking…”

  3

  Clancy leaned against a nearby building just around the corner from Phil’s Antiques, wondering what to do.

  He’d just been wandering, going nowhere in particular, when he’d stopped in this small town a short distance from Dragonclaw on a whim. That same whim had taken him into the store.

  And he’d seen the one thing he’d hoped to never see again.

  To make things worse, it was in the hands of a Wild West fanatic who was obsessed with the legacy of a dead gunslinger. And on any other day, meeting someone who talked about Tucker Thompson with stars in their eyes the way she did would have been amusing. Maybe even flattering.

  But he’d gotten rid of the coin for a reason. And the fact that she was so stubborn about holding on to it rubbed him the wrong way.

  He made to leave when he got a strong feeling he needed to go back and check one more time. Maybe it was something about the cute, fiery redheaded woman behind the front desk that demanded a second look. Maybe it was imagining Harrison, his boss, censuring him once he found out about the coin.

  Maybe it was the sinking feeling in his chest, wondering if any harm would come to that pretty, stubborn lady now that his dragon’s talon was in her hands.

  It couldn’t hurt to try again. After all, he couldn’t quell his curiosity about this strange woman who seemed to be the only person in the world able to say no to him about anything.

  He made for the store, and in seconds, he entered through the front to the sound of the little bell overhead.

  Instantly, his senses were on alert as he looked up and saw five large men inside.

  The mood was completely different from what it had been a minute ago.

  He saw how all of them, save the biggest standing near the front counter, attempted to shift their attention as they looked at random objects sitting on store shelves. Up ahead, the woman at the counter had a fake smile on that didn’t reach her pretty golden-brown eyes.

  “W-welcome back.” Even from this distance, he could see the fine sheen of perspiration across her brow. The sparkle in her frozen gaze said she was trying to act normal.

  The only other person watching him was the guy at the counter, who had a long scar across his face and the bearing of a cage fighter, not a shopper looking for antiques. He was leaning onto the counter, thrumming meaty fingers over the glass as his gaze remained locked on Clancy’s.

  Clancy nodded and confidently strolled into the store, humming nonchalantly, hands in his pockets.

  He knew a rat when he saw one. Five of them, to be precise. He knew when people looked like they were up to no good. It wasn’t subtle to someone with his eyes.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d stumbled upon a scene like this one.

  But for some odd reason, he felt particularly protective of this woman and her store, even if she had said no to him. So he wasn’t going to go starting a fight if he didn’t have to.

  In a moment, he reached the register, and he noticed the woman’s hands were clenched into tight fists at her side. Whatever had been going on, Clancy had arrived just in time.

  “Just wanted to ask you if you got any books on pest control in here?” Clancy asked, approaching the counter so he was right in front of her.

  The big guy leaned back, still staring in a way that would have certainly unnerved most regular people.

  Lucky for her, he wasn’t any normal person.

  “Uh… used books are over there. I’m not sure what you’re asking.” Her big eyes blinked, and he could see a vein at the base of her neck quivering.

  Seeing her scared like this made Clancy pissed as hell, though why, he wasn’t quite sure.

>   Clancy leaned his back to the register, giving him a perfect view of all five men. “I tried using the Google, but I got some big rats that don’t take to normal means of extermination.”

  Each of the men was looking up at him from their spots in the store, irises narrowed.

  “You know anything about Texas rats? Real big. Real mean too. Thought maybe one of your old-timey books could give me some advice about… rats.” He shot a glance toward the man he presumed was the ringleader on his right.

  From his assessment of the situation, these guys were here for something. And if bad luck and fate were any indicator, it was the coin sitting in the display case right behind him now.

  The man with the scar growled, and Clancy got a whiff of shifter from him. “Beat it, mister. We got business with the lady.”

  Clancy waggled a finger. “That’s where you’d be wrong. I have business with the proprietor of this fine establishment. Ain’t that right, Miss…?” He looked over at his shoulder, and the woman’s mouth was parted, eyes darting back and forth. She didn’t even realize he was asking for her name for a moment.

  “Billie. Uh, Billie.” Her reaction would have been cute if not for the tension so thick in the room you could cut it with a knife.

  “Ms. Billie. Cute name, by the way. It suits you.”

  She sent him a look that said, What on earth are you doing? but Clancy just resumed his relaxed posture.

  One of the men on his left decided to approach, putting down an old lunch pail as he strode toward Clancy. He had a fist in front of him like he was ready to take a swing.

  He’d be damned if these guys broke a single thing in Billie’s store right now, though.

  “Look, mister, you need to leave. And we’ll make you if we have—”

  Clancy leaned forward and reached out a hand in what would have looked like a normal, friendly handshake. Instead, as he grabbed the guy’s hand, his fingers crushed down on the unsuspecting thug’s digits and palm. “Pleasure to meet you, friend. Name’s Clancy. Where you from? Lovely weather we been havin’, right?”